


wherever we may roam

by fxdetoblxck



Category: Metallica
Genre: Daddy Kink, Drugs, Drunk Sex, F/M, Making Out, Older Man/Younger Woman, Pegging, Power Dynamics, Power Play, Public Sex, Rough Sex, Threesome - F/M/M, Touring
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-04-06 09:08:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 46,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14053620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fxdetoblxck/pseuds/fxdetoblxck
Summary: Never meet your idols.In which a young girl in an up and coming metal band tours with her idol. But things don't turn out as planned.





	1. talk

Dear Kirk, 

I remember when I first met you. It was on that talk show, the one with that guy who had just beat out David Letterman for the Best TV Host award on the Emmy’s. It was a huge shock to everyone. What a shame he overdosed only a few years later. But little did I know that that brief meeting would lead to a three year whirlwind, consisting only of you.

I had looked up to you ever since I heard Ride the Lightning in the back of my father’s Camaro as a naive 15 year old in 1985. I had listened to Led Zeppelin, Deep Purple, Black Sabbath, and all of the other bands my father played. But nothing hit me like Metallica. Metallica was like a God to me. The electrifying riffs, powerful vocals, heavy bass. It was a band like no other.

Ride the Lightning was the first vinyl I had ever bought. I had been monetarily supporting you since before I even knew you. Ever since listening to the whole album, I became obsessed with you and your band. I wanted to be as famous as you. I wanted to play guitar as well as you. I wanted to be you. 

And so I tried. I picked up a guitar as soon as I could. I learned the rhythm parts of RTL by ear first, then tried the lead parts. Your parts. 

In the span of five years, I had discovered the art of playing guitar, to selling out the biggest clubs around the country as the lead singer and rhythm guitarist of Rebel Heart, the thrash metal band I founded with my best friends. 

Rebel Heart emerged onto the metal scene as a new artist to look out for in 1988. I was 18. I had formed the band in 1986, when I was 16 and a novice guitar player. Our first album, Blood of Velvet, debuted at number #10, quite an impressive feat for a new band. That massive publicity, though, was due to our bass player, Michael’s, friendship with Scott Ian, the guitar player for Anthrax. Michael was a roadie for the band that Scott had taken a liking to, and when he played Scott our very first demos, Scott loved it and promised he would help make us successful and well known. 

And he did. Thank you Scott.

But with the massive success of BoV, much more than we expected, my best friends and I were thrust into public light. We had only just become legal adults. Much too young to be famous, which I realized quickly, though it was opposed to what I had yearned for as a teen. This new fame led us to sold out shows, opportunities to meet our idols, and constant, constant interviews.

When I was asked to appear on that talk show in 1991, with the host who I can’t seem to remember, I was still in the trance of fame. However, this would be my first interview alone, as the rest have been with my other bandmates. I had no idea what to expect, and the thought of you was honestly the last thing to cross my mind. 

But at that moment in 1991, before my first televised interview, I wasn’t thinking of anything, except for the fact that I was going to be on fucking TV. It was showtime, and as I heard myself being introduced, I tugged down my tight white dress, pushed my blonde hair in front of my ears, and walked out. I walked straight past you. I didn’t even realize you were there. Not yet. 

I don’t remember much of that interview. I remember explaining the struggle of being a girl in a male dominated industry. I remember waving to the audience, feeling very uncomfortable in my short, tight dress. Why did I even wear it, I didn’t know at the time. But I’m glad I was wearing it when I met you. You told me you had always loved that dress.

I do, however, remember when I was asked about my guitar influences. I laughed. 

“I mean, of course I gotta give credit to the legends like Hendrix, Page, and Clapton. Of course. Those guys are like Gods, they are Gods. But I have to say my number one guitar influence is Kirk Hammett from Metallica. He inspired me to... pick up guitar. I love playing lead guitar, I really do, it’s just much easier for me to play rhythm while singing, which is what I play in Rebel Heart. But Kirk’s riffs, oh my fucking God. I wish I played lead, so that I could play riffs like his.”

I nearly moaned while talking about your riffs, then got bright red after I realised that I had just moaned on television.

But I kept talking. I kept talking about how the first lead riff I learned was For Whom the Bell Tolls. Then it lead to Creeping Death. Most recently, I had mastered the lead guitar for Blackened. I must’ve sounded like an insane fangirl, but I didn’t care. I wanted to show off my dedication for you and lead guitar, a talent that I rarely get to show at live shows. 

I was so focused on talking about you that I didn’t notice you standing by the doorway. I didn’t notice the side eye the interviewer gave you, an act that I only noticed after rewatching the interview years later. I did notice, however, the interviewer cutting me off. I was annoyed, at the time, but then realized that maybe I had talked about your guitar skills for a little too long.

“Well, I think it’s very obvious that you admire Kirk Hammett,” the interviewer laughed. “That’s why we have a surprise for you.”

My first thought was that I had got a personalized signed vinyl from you. I don’t know where I got that from. But that was far from the truth. 

“Kirk,” the interviewer beamed. “Come on out.”

No.

I remember going bright red. I remember feeling my heart drop.

No.

Kirk Hammett was not here now. 

But you were.

I turned, and put my hands over mouth. 

And there you were. My idol. My inspiration. The man who’s riffs I tried to perfect, whose face was on a number of posters in my childhood room. 

You were wearing all black- black jeans and a black button down shirt. That was my favorite outfit on you. Once I let that slip, you would wear it as much as you can. You fucker.

“Oh my god,” I laughed as I placed my hands on my temple, turning away from you. I saw Jordan, my manager, backstage. He was smiling. He knew how much I adored you. 

I turned back to you. You were grinning, and walking across the stage. I walked towards you and extended my hand, expecting a handshake. Instead, you held your arms out and pulled me into a hug.

I was the skinniest I had ever been at that time- probably from the excessive drinking, occasional cocaine use, and the fact that I never had time to eat. Your arms wrapped tightly around my thin body, so that I was pulled close to you, chest to chest. Your curls tickled my exposed shoulders, and I wrapped my arms around you as well. You smelled like soap and cinnamon. The audience was cheering, the interviewer was clapping, and I was in shock. I was hugging my idol.

We pulled away, and grinned at each other. And in that moment, I had a feeling. I don’t know what it was, but it bubbled up inside of me and struck.

Later, you said you felt it too.

We both sat down on the couch next to the interviewer. I was still in shock. I was also embarrassed. I had just gone on about how much I admired you, and you had heard all of it. 

The rest of the interview was a blur. You were asked about your influences, (a question you had been asked many times- we all know you loved Hendrix and Michael Schenker), and I was asked if I was surprised by you showing up (I was). And then, that was it. The interview was over. 

We both waved to the audience, then walked off stage. And that was it. I felt like I was in a trance. I walked over to Jordan, and started smiling widely.

“Jordan?? What the fuck just happened?? Did you do this?????”

But he just smiled and told me that he was glad I had finally gotten to meet you. Jordan knew that I saw Metallica live back in ‘86. But I was also at the very back, and could barely see you, let alone meet you. But I just did. I had fucking hugged my idol.

I squealed to Jordan, so fucking happy. His smile grew even bigger as his eyes moved to something that was over my shoulder. I turned.

And of course, there you were. The devil himself. I suddenly went red as I walked over to you.

“Hi,” I said sheepishly.

“Hi,” You responded.

“Um.. thank you,” I laughed. “I’ve always been inspired by you, and I’ve always wanted to meet you and just..this was so nice. Thank you.”

You laughed in response. “It’s my pleasure, sweetheart. I always love to meet new artists.” you then leaned into me and whispered, “Especially when they’re as talented as you.” You then looked me up and down, looking at my tits and body. I realized that my looks were probably one of the reasons why you came. Fuck. 

I felt myself getting red, again. You don’t know this, but I have no shame. I never get embarrassed, in front of anyone. Not when I fell onstage at our first music festival. Not when Jordan found me drunk and almost naked in the back of our tour bus. Not even when I was all flustered when I first met Tommy Lee. But with you, fuck. I hate the effect that you have on me. 

Thank you for thinking I was hot. And thank you for coming, truly. But if you want my respect, compliment my music, not my body.

But you did say I was talented, and I did adore you, so I wasn’t as angry and I didn’t feel as violated. But my spirits did damper. It must have been very obvious because when you had to go, I gave you a weak hug, and your smile faltered. But then when you whispered to me that we would definitely be seeing each other soon, I was uplifted again. 

Just because I was mad that you implied that you wanted to get into my pants doesn’t mean that I would’ve said no to that.


	2. drunk

When you said we would see each other again, I thought that you were just saying that as a goodbye gesture. But no. You meant actually see each other again. And soon. Much sooner than I thought. 

Weeks after the interview, when I met you, I still replayed that moment. I had met my idol. You were my idol. 

We played a few shows around the east coast. We were a New York City band, and had two shows in New York instead of one due to high demand. Us New Yorkers love our metal bands.

At our shows, we recently started to cover Leper Messiah. One of your songs. I had always loved the song, and we had covered it even before I had met you. But now, at every show, before we played it, I told the story of how we met, which always left the audience cheering. You were still my idol, I can’t emphasize that enough.

After that tour, we couldn’t play in clubs anymore. They kept getting sold out, and there was such high demand that when Jordan told us that we would have to play small arenas now, we couldn’t believe it. When my band was on the rise, it felt like we kept getting bigger and bigger, and when we thought we had reached the top, we kept going higher.

I’m sure you can relate.

I’m sure you also know the process of tour lineup selections. The artist either asks their ideal opening artist directly, or word is sent out in the industry that a band is looking for an opening band. For our first opening tour, we were lucky. We were reached out to directly, and didn’t have to initially express interest. 

Jordan told us that Metallica, you in particular, which I learned later, had requested us, Rebel Heart, to be the opener for their Wherever We May Roam tour. The WWMR tour was a nearly year long stadium tour, from ‘91 to ‘92. We would be playing all over North America, which we have done before, but also Europe. Though we were successful at that point, we had never gone to Europe. 

At that point, I was overwhelmed. Not only were we finally touring Europe, not only were we playing stadiums, a huge step up from our usual clubs, but we would be touring with Metallica. With you.

So that’s another reason why you came on the show.

Were we very lucky? Yes. Was it seemingly too good to be true? Yes.

I know that we were extremely lucky, a one in a million case. I was 21 years old and opening for Metallica. 

This was better than sex. This was better than any type of drug I could’ve gotten on that tour, which was truly any type of drug. 

My band was opening for Metallica. We were playing stadiums. We were going to perform in Europe. What the fuck.

The tour was a year long. Much longer than the tours we had done, which were usually just a few months. 

This all happened so fast, I didn’t really have time to process what was happening. I did, however, think of Sid.

Sid was my boyfriend. Yes, that Sid. I met him when Rebel Heart was first starting up. He lent out his studio for us to practice. I owe our career to him, and I’m very grateful for his hospitality. But as we got bigger and started recording in bigger studios, our business relationship turned to personal, and we got involved together. 

This didn’t even happen until the beginning of 1991. We had been touring for a while, then I saw Sid at a party. I hadn't seen or thought about him in months. Let’s just say that we drank a little too much and got a little too frisky. A one night stand turned into a two night stand, and soon enough, we started dating.

This was only a few months later. But I did like him. And now, the August of that same year, I was leaving him for a year to tour, with you.

We were leaving for tour in a month. We had a month to rehearse and pack. 

I didn’t even see you until tour started. I honestly was so overwhelmed in practicing, with press and packing that I wasn’t focused on anything other than myself.

But that month went by quickly, and we flew out to San Francisco to meet you there and play.

I remember stepping off the plane, my best friends and manager by my side. Our first two shows were here, so we didn’t pack the tour bus yet, as you had lived here. 

The night before the first show, we all went out to dinner. Your manager rented out an Italian restaurant, so we had an open bar and restaurant to ourselves.

Both of us were there. The attention was more on you and your band, obviously. But we were opening. We did have a lot of people coming up to us. The restaurant was packed, much more than I expected. Every sound guy, lighting guy, tour manager, everyone was there. And then, I noticed.

I was the only girl. 

Yeah, that’s right. My band is filled with all guys. Your band is all guys. All of the tour crew was filled with men. 

But this was the 90s. I loved the attention, and as long as I was with Jordan or my bandmates, I knew I was safe. 

And attention I was getting. I was a young, hot, rock chick, I wasn’t surprised that people were coming on to me. I was chatting up a storm, and accepting every drink that was bought for me. 

By the time I went to the bar to get another drink, I still hadn’t seen you. But I was at that drunken point in which I wasn’t thinking of anything except getting another drink. The bar was at the far end of the restaurant, and surprisingly, it was pretty empty at that point. Everyone was on the other side, eating.

“Yeahhhh, one gin and tonic pleaseeee.” I put up one finger and smiled at the bartender as he made me my drink. I was leaning on the bar, my shirt riding down my tits.

I was a drunken mess. On not even the first fucking day of tour.

Later, I was able to get my drinking under control. But I was young and it was the 90s, so at the time, I didn’t think excessive drinking was that big of an issue- everyone did it. And my body was so used to it that I rarely got hangovers anymore. 

So there I was, drunk as fuck, looking hot as fuck, at the bar. The alcohol was starting to make me dizzy, so I took a seat at the bar and put my head in my arms.

After what only seemed like a minute, I felt a hand softly touch my back. And then I smelt a familiar smell.

Soap and cinnamon.

I looked up. Sliding in next to me, at the bar, was none other than you. 

Fuck.

Here I was, drunk, next to my idol.

Was I bound to fuck this up and embarrass myself? Yes. 

“Taylor,” you smiled. It was so nice to hear you say my name, a sound that I eventually would hear in many different positions.

“Kirk!” I squealed. “Hiii!!” I threw my arms around you.

I was making such a fool of myself, and even when I became more comfortable, I still cringed while thinking about it.

The bartender put my drink down, and I slid him a $50. I was drunk, okay.

You eyed my drink and raised your eyebrows. 

“Gin and tonic? Sophisticated, huh.”

I raised my glass. “Of course,” and downed it like it was a shot. 

He just grinned.

“A girl who can drink. I like that.”

I just grinned at you and flagged the bartender over again. Before I could speak, you said, “two shots.”

Two shots were brought over, and we downed them together. 

In that moment, I knew we would make great memories together on tour.

And that was it. That was our first, private, short lived encounter. 

We decided to walk back to the rest of the group when my clumsy ass tripped. Like a damsel in distress, you caught me. We looked into each other’s eyes, and I swear I sobered up immediately in that instance.

My smile was hurting my face, but I didn’t care. 

Day 1 of tour was the next day. We would be visiting cities all over Europe and North America for the next year. I couldn’t fucking wait, and that night, my nerves and adrenaline was pumping so fast I thought I would have a heart attack.

I was excited for the first show. I really was. But I knew that before our performance, I needed to talk to you. While sober.


	3. nerves

The arena in San Francisco, California, wasn’t as nice as I thought it would be. We didn’t get all star treatment; all four of us were thrown in a small room while you and your band got all the treatment you want.

But did I care? Not really. I was minimalistic, and I was just grateful to be touring with you. I didn’t mind not having a lot of space, though I was jealous of the fact that you got all the drugs and alcohol you wanted.

Honestly, that whole day was a whirlwind. That whole year was a whirlwind.

That afternoon was insane, most of it was spent during soundcheck or prepping for the show. 

But soon enough, it was 40 minutes to showtime, and here I was. I applied some red lipstick to my lips and smacked them together. 

It didn’t take much for me to get ready for shows. When headlining, I would usually dress as hot as I wanted- red dress, huge heels. But we weren’t headlining anymore. I couldn’t just throw on some lingerie and act as hot as I wanted. These weren’t our fans, they weren’t coming to see us. We really needed to step up our game if we wanted to impress these Metallica fans.

There’s also the fact that I was a chick. So people immediately thought we sucked. Fuck them.

But with the pressure of being a chick, to having to look good but not too good so that people would still take us seriously to the huge fucking pressure of opening for Metallica, I was freaking out to say the least. I was nervous before all shows. But this, my fucking god. I had a lot to live up to.

Metal fans are intense. It already took us so long to establish a solid reputation, due to the fact that we were a female fronted band. We had to be really good on the tour, as good as we could be. 

The rest of my bandmates went to the backstage area to tune up their guitars, but I still had a few minutes. My guitar was already tuned, and I needed a few minutes to myself before every show, just to decompress. 

So, I was alone. Everyone on our team knew that I needed my alone time. And my alone time I had.

I sat on the couch, my hands on my head, trying to calm my nerves. It was silent, and the only thing I could hear was my heartbeat. 

I then heard a knock on the door. I furrowed my brows, annoyed. Everyone knew I needed alone time. There was 20 minutes until showtime. I knew when I needed to go on. What the fuck.

“What?” I snapped. 

The door slowly opened, and before I could snap again, you peeked your head in.

“Hey,” you said.

“Oh. Hi,” I responded.

Let me just emphasize that just because I wasn’t freaking out on the outside didn’t mean that I wasn’t freaking out. At that point, you were still KIRK HAMMETT!!! MY IDOL!!! 

You came in. You were wearing a black long sleeve shirt and black jeans, a typical look of yours. 

“You ready?” you asked. 

I laughed and ran my hands through my hair. “Uh, yeah, I think. Just nerves, I guess.”

You nodded. “Yeah. I know. You’ll be great though, don’t worry. I’ve heard your stuff.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Oh really?”

“Yeah, of course.” You cocked your head, confusion in your eyes, as if I should’ve known that the guitarist in the biggest band in the world listened to our music. 

Before I could respond, Jordan pushed the door open. “Taylor. You’re on in 10. You need to come.”

I abruptly got up. You did too.

“Good luck. You’ll do great, sweetheart.”

I slightly blushed at that. Look at me, being all sappy. Me getting all blushy over fucking sweetheart. 

Fuck you.

As I started to check myself in the mirror quickly one more time, and you started to leave, I called out to you one more time. 

“Wait, Kirk.”

You turned. 

“I...sorry about last night. I really don’t drink that much, and it was unprofessional. I’m sorry.” That was a lie. I really do drink that much. But you didn’t need to know that. 

You just gave me a small smile. 

“It’s tour. We all get like that. Don’t worry.”

I nodded. 

“Okay. Good.”

We walked out together. 

“I would really like to get to know you, Taylor. You seem like a good girl. We have a lot of down time, we should definitely spend some of that time together.”

I nodded wildly. “Yes. For sure. Definitely. Thanks.”

Kirk Hammett wanted to get to know me. Wow.

We smiled at each other; you gave me a friendly pat on the back, and I jogged over to Jordan.

“Taylor. You’re on now. C’mon, let’s get you hooked up.”

As Jordan wired me up, I tried to steady my breathing. 

It’s okay. You said I was good. We’ll be fine. 

I was opening for Metallica. I was playing with my best friends. My idol said I was good. I’m okay.

And so, I headed up the steps onto the stage. Andy, our lead guitarist, was gripping his guitar so hard his knuckles were white. Doug, our drummer and my best friend, was already up there, playing a drum solo as an introduction. Michael was playing a quiet pentatonic scale on his bass. 

And me. I adjusted the straps of my guitar, took a deep breath, and emerged onto our first ever arena stage as a headliner for Metallica.

As I got up to the microphone, the lights and sound of the crowd overwhelmed me. Doug was still playing his solo, and the rest of us were headbanging. This arena sat over 18,000 people. Our biggest show to date had had around 7,000 people. So I was not used to this crowd at all.

But I was okay. I thought of your words, and knew we would be good. 

And so, as Doug ended his solo and we were about to play our first song, I leaned into the microphone and screamed as loud as I could, 

“San Francisco, how the fuck are we doing tonight!!”


	4. cigarettes

Being a touring artist, I had seen my share of drugs on the road, and I might have dabbled in it. But this tour really showed me how drug addictions on the road start.

I couldn’t sleep. We had the nicest fucking tourbus, with the beds there being even nicer than my bed at home. But it was 3 fucking am, and I was wide awake.

We were parked, we weren’t even driving or anything. I had enough space, and it was quiet. But I was wide awake. 

The Metallica tour bus was parked next to ours, and I saw through the window that the lights were off there also.

I would’ve loved some drugs right now to help sleep and decompress. But I didn’t know how to get it right now, and I didn’t wanna ask you about it just yet. You had already seen me drunk, and I didn’t want you to see me high either.

Maybe Doug knew. But Doug was asleep, and I didn’t want to wake him up now.

I can’t do this. I had a pack of cigarettes, and I decided to go outside. If I couldn’t sleep, I might as well smoke.

I pulled on a sweatshirt and went outside. I was just gonna sit on the steps of the tour bus, I didn’t wanna go farther than that. 

As I put the cigarette in my mouth and started to light it, I heard a voice call my name.

It was you.

I looked up and saw you sitting on the steps of your parallel tour bus, also smoking a cigarette. I walked over, and sat down next to you. 

“Hey,” I said softly. We were sitting so close that our thighs were touching, and I could feel your curls on my shoulder. 

I went to take a drag of my cigarette, finished it, and reached in the box for another one.

The box was empty.

“Shit,” I muttered. “Hey, can I bum a cigarette?”

You didn’t answer. You just held out the cigarette, and as I reached for it, you instead softly inserted it between my lips. Our eyes met as you lit it, and I muttered a “thank you” as I took a drag.

“These tour bus beds are fucking uncomfortable, aren’t they,” you mumured.

“They’re okay.” I ashed my cigarette. “I think the nerves are keeping me up though.”

You nodded. “Understandable. It’s hard for me to sleep on tour. Insomnia.”

I mumbled a noise of agreement.

You coughed a little, and then asked, “So, how do you like tour so far?”

“Oh god, I love it.” I stifled a cough. “Europe is so pretty. The crowds are amazing. This is a dream come true. This is my first time here, so I’m trying to take all of it in, you know”

“This is your first time in Europe?” you looked over at me, incredulously. “We gotta go see the tourist sights then.”

“I’d like that,” I smiled. 

We had just had a show in Castle Donington, England. We had over a month left of European shows.

We sat in comfortable silence, listening to the crickets of England and our soft breaths. 

“You guys play really well live, you know,” you said, your whisper penetrating the silence. “I watched you a few times. You’re really, really good.”

I blushed, heavily. Here you were, my idol, saying my band was good. Fuck.

“Sh. Thanks. We rehearsed so much for this tour, like, a lot more than for other tours. But thank you for saying that, it truly means a lot.”

I took another drag of my cigarette.

“You know I saw you in ‘86, right?”

You turned, chuckling. “Oh really?”

“Yeah,” I laughed. “In Syracuse for the Damage, Inc tour. I was so far back though, I could barely see you.”

You leaned your head back and gave a small laugh. “Wow. That’s sick. If you were front row, I would’ve definitely had our security guards invite you back stage or something.”

I playfully nudged you. “Shut up. I bet you could’ve chosen any girl who was close to the stage to bring backstage.”

You just laughed. “You know, our lifestyle isn’t so sex, drugs, and rock and roll as you’d think. 

I raised an eyebrow. “No?”

“Could it be? Definitely. I mean, we can essentially have any girl we want, we have access to any drugs we want, and we play fucking metal shows every night. But we all live pretty modest lifestyles.”

I was surprised to hear how much you were opening up. I initially thought that maybe it was the cigarettes or nighttime mood. Later, you told me it was more.

I hit you again, playfully. “No fucking way.”

You just laughed, turned to me, and said, “Yeah, you’re right. We do all that shit on the road. But on our free time, we try to refrain from it as much as we can.” You looked me in the eyes. “Honestly.”

I nodded, while lighting up another one of your cigarettes. “Alright. I believe you.”

“But what what about you, Taylor?” You dragged on the last syllable of my name, a playful sparkle in your eyes. “No way you don’t indulge in that lifestyle, at least on the road.”

I shrugged. “I’ll try drugs if I have access to them.” Lie. I tried drugs every time I had a chance. After this tour, my cocaine use was borderline addiction. “And yeah, playing shows every night is definitely rock and roll. But the sex…. Not really.”

You threw your head back and laughed a loud laugh. “Bullshit. You’re a hot rock chick. I’m sure you can get any guy you want.”

I didn’t know why you were talking like this, but I also didn’t mind.

“Oh, shut up,” I shushed you, blushing. “I mean, I guess. But I’m too nervous to fuck that many guys, to be honest. No way can I get pregnant now. And….. I have a boyfriend.”

You froze, holding your cigarette up. “Oh.”  
Your smile faltered as you looked at me, “Okay.”

Was Kirk Hammett really upset that I wasn't single?

I nodded. “Yeah. But things are getting difficult, I guess. I can’t really deal with it right now.”

There was a lot I could have said about Sid. But this moment was peaceful and quiet, and I didn’t want to ruin that.

You nodded. “I get it. It’s hard. But when you’re single, you should take a risk once in a while, Taylor.”

You then leaned in and whispered. “I bet some of these rock guys can give you the best sex you’ve ever had.” Your breath was hot on my ear.

I gave you a side eye, and smiled. Taking another drag of a cigarette, I responded smugly, “Maybe so.”

We could’ve continued our titillating conversation. We could’ve, and probably would’ve, had sex that night, especially if I didn’t have the thought of Sid weighing on my mind. But we were both sly, and we both wanted to take it slow. After all, we did have nearly a year left on the road. 

We would have many more chances to have conversations like this. And maybe one day, it would go from verbal to physical.

We sat there until the sun rose, chain smoking your cigarettes until the pack was finished. 

At that point, I didn’t know if we would ever have sex. I didn’t know if we would become close friends, or have just a strictly professional relationship. But I did know that I could find solidarity in you. 

You had decided to try and sleep, until we all needed to be up by noon. But as you were getting up, your hand lightly trailed across my back, causing the hairs on my neck to rise.

“Goodnight, Taylor.”

“Goodnight, Kirk.”

By late afternoon, we were on the road again. When we went to quickly stop at a rest stop for a breath of fresh air, I saw you making your way over to my tour bus. You were talking to Jordan. Then, you and Jordan walked over to me. 

“Taylor,” Jordan said. “Do you wanna take a three day trip to London? Your next show isn’t until next week.”

I looked over at you, and you were grinning. In that instance I knew that you had arranged the trip, and you were sincere about us exploring Europe.

“Yes. Yes.” I grinned widely, making eye contact with you. I mouthed Thank you. You nodded in response.

“Great. It’s gonna be both of your bands and some of the crew, okay? We already booked a hotel. Three days. You leave in an hour. And then we’re on the road to do a show in Hungary, alright?”

“Yes, yes, thank you Jordan.”

What the fuck. I was going to London with my favorite band. This was all happening so quickly I couldn’t process it.

I boarded my tour bus to see Michael, Doug, James, and Lars all sitting on the couches, beers in their hands. I narrowed my eyebrows. Metallica never came on our bus. Unless….

Before I could say anything, Andy and Jason boarded the bus as well, talking and laughing like old friends. Good for Andy.

“Sit down, Taylor,” James laughed. I hesitantly walked over to the couch. 

Why the fuck was Metallica on our bus?

“It’s a three hour trip to London,” Lars explained, his mouth full with bites from a sandwich. “We haven’t been to London in forever. So why not spend it together?”

“Oh, God,” I laughed. What the fuck. A trip to London with my idols? This is everything I dreamed of as a teen. “Sure, yeah.”

As I sat down on the couch, next to James, you boarded the bus as well. Your curls were tied back into a ponytail, and you plopped yourself down next to me. 

There I was, squished between my two fucking idols, on a trip to fucking London. 

The Black Album had come out literally less than a week before this. I hadn’t been able to listen to it, because I hadn’t been home, but I also didn’t realize. You guys were big enough at this point that you had so many people working for you- a tour team AND an album team. Lars quietly told me that your team in San Francisco had released the album, and you guys would address it more once you got back. Either way, I really appreciated you all coming with us.

As we started to get back on the road, James started to tell a story from the last tour.

“That was the most fucked up I’ve ever been, I can tell you that,” James concluded. He playfully wagged his finger at us, and said, “Don’t mix vodka with cocaine, kids. It’s not a good feeling at all.”

We all laughed in unison, and I scooched a little closer to you. Before anyone could respond, though, Lars said, “Guys, we still have over two hours left.”

It was dark at this point, and we were told to go straight to our hotel rooms and go to bed, so we could be up early the next day to have as much time as we could to explore London.

Lars then held up his (third? fourth?) can of beer and said, “We’re gonna go to sleep when we get there anyway. How about a drinking game?”


	5. clubbing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the delay. this chapter is extra long (almost double the length of the longest chapter so far) to make up for it. also, please read the notes at the end of the chapter, they’re very important. enjoy.

Thank god none of us were driving, or we 100% would’ve crashed

We were all trashed out of our minds, and had a little under an hour until we got to London. 

Lars’s body was so splayed out that he was basically lying on Doug. We were all slurring our words, and hysterically laughing. Some of us were gathered around a table, playing beer pong. 

“Okay, okay, my turn,” James said, stifling laughter as he raised his beer can. 

It was Andy and I against you and James. We weren’t playing for money or anything, just bands being friends.

Friends. Were we close enough to say that I was friends with Metallica?

Fuuuck.

James bounced the ball on the table and it landed in one of our cups.

“Fuck you,” I laughed as I downed the beer in the cup. 

“Okay, my turn.” 

I crouched down so that I was eye level with you and James’s cups. We had one cup left, and then we would win. I lightly bounced the ball, and it teetered precariously around the rim of the cup, until it plopped in.

I jumped up and hugged Andy. “Yes!”

You playfully glared at me as you took a sip of the beer, and then passed it to James. James leaned his head back like it was a shot.

“Fuck you, Taylor,” James laughed as he slammed the cup back down on the table. “I’m undefeated in beer pong. Fuck.”

“Not anymore,” I teased, finishing the last few cups of beer on my side. 

“He really is unbeatable, though,” you said as you started to lean back on the couch. “Good job, Taylor. You finally beat the beast.”

I raised my cup up in celebration, and passed it to Andy so he could finish the remaining beer. 

“Hell yeah.”

By the time we got to London, we were basically passed out from all the alcohol. We groggily gathered our bags and lugged ourselves off of the bus. 

My head was pounding, the lights were blinding (I had to put sunglasses on, even though it’s fucking night time), and my body felt like I had just run a marathon non-stop, with no water. 

Why the fuck did I drink so much alcohol? 

I needed to fucking sleep.

We had booked three rooms, and there were eight of us. We had previously decided to do three people in two rooms and two people in one room, but didn’t decide who was in what room yet.

I didn’t mind being with any of the guys. There were no other girls, so I would have to be. I felt comfortable with all of the guys in my band (we had all seen each other naked), and I didn’t mind sharing a room with any of the members of Metallica. We would fall asleep as soon as we got into the room and wake up early the next morning to leave. As long as there were separate beds, I was fine.

Doug wanted to be with Lars, I knew. Lars had taken a liking to Doug, and Doug idolized him as a drummer. They were drunk as fuck, but still were chatting up a storm. I knew they would love to be up all night, just talking and drinking. 

Doug had also been talking to Jason a lot. So it was assumed that Doug, Jason, and Lars would be in a room together. 

Good for Doug. He was able to have a beer, talk, and share a room with his idols.

That left you, James, Andy, Michael, and I. 

We decided to do Andy, Michael and I in one room and James and you in the other. 

It would’ve been cool to be in the same room with you. I was secretly hoping that would happen, but then I remembered that this was real life and not a teen movie.

Plus, if I suggested it, I would’ve come across as too much. 

Also, I have a fucking boyfriend. God. I honestly have barely thought about Sid. We called a few days ago, but we were both tired and in different time zones, so we didn’t talk for that long. 

Even thinking about Sid gave me a headache. Fuck. 

But I couldn’t deal with Sid now. It could wait.

As a group, we checked into the hotel and went upstairs to our rooms. 

I threw my bags on the bed and flopped onto it, spread eagle. I passed out immediately, but right before I did, I was only thinking of you.

Fuck. 

Somehow, we were able to be in the lobby of the hotel by 10am the next morning.

When you’re young and in your twenties, your body is capable of great things. 

I was okay, I didn’t really get bad hangovers. But everyone else except for Lars very obviously would much rather be back in bed.

“Can’t we just take a cab,” you grumbled as you gathered your hair back, coming up beside me.

“No, we need fresh air. Come on, let’s go,” Lars chirped as he practically skipped outside.

Fuck you, Lars.

But he was right. We did need fresh air. We all winced in unison as we stepped out into the bright sunlight, and were all wearing dark black sunglasses. Four huge security guys surrounded us, which probably caused even more attention than us.

We headed towards Leicester Square, as Lars said there was a cool record store there that he wanted to show us.

Typical Lars. Always taking control. But we loved that about him.

Two days later, we had all decided to go out on our last night, crash on the bus after, and head back early next morning.

We were supposed to be going to a club. I should’ve been getting ready. But instead, I was lying on my back, sifting through the numerous polaroids we had taken.

I had just showered, so I was laying there in just a towel. I would get ready. Eventually.

There were some polaroids of Michael and Andy, a hilarious one with Lars and Doug, and a really cute picture of Jason and James laughing.

But the best picture was the one of us. Of course. When Doug held up the camera to us, I expected for us to just stand there and smile. But no.

As Doug pointed the camera towards us, you immediately grabbed me and tightly wrapped your arms around me. Surprised, I did the same.

Our faces were squished up against each other’s, and our smiles weren’t even staged- we were genuinely happy.

The first thing I thought when I was that photo was how much of a couple we looked like.

No, Taylor, you can’t look like a couple because you have a fucking boyfriend already. Remember Sid?

Fuuucking Sid.

God. Whenever I thought of you in the slightest, Sid would always pop into mind.

I needed to break up with him. Not because I thought I was going to get with you, but because if I was thinking of someone else, that wasn’t fair to him. Plus, I had nearly a year left on the road. I couldn’t be away from him for that long.

I’d do it soon. But not now.

I continued to look through the pictures, but before I could finish, my door burst open.

“Doug” I shrieked. “Get out!”

Regardless of how many times we’ve seen each other naked, or we’ve walked in on each other having sex, I still didn’t like being surprised. 

He playfully covered his eyes. 

“Taylor, we’re leaving in forty minutes, be ready please.”

Shit.

I had a tendency to be late. But like the spontaneity a touring artist has to have, I was able to get ready in half of that time.

I wanted to wear something hot, but not typical.

There was also a small part of me that wanted to impress you.

But you had already seen me in a tight dress, so I decided on an acid washed black top, with black jeans and a leather jacket.

I rapped on the door that connected our rooms. “Doug! I’m ready.”

Doug emerged in a look that I’m sure all the guys would be wearing- black button down with black pants. 

“Damn. You look good.”

I thanked Doug as I looped my arm through his and headed towards the elevator. Hopefully, you agreed.

And once again, Sid popped into my head.

If you only feel guilt when thinking about Sid, you need to break up with him.

I would. I would.

But not now. 

We were to meet at the bar at different times, as to not attract a crowd. Doug and I arrived first, so we decided to get a drink and dance as we waited.

I grabbed his hand and led him to the dance floor. Some hip hop song was on, and due to the fact that we had downed half a bottle of champagne in the car, we were already a little tipsy.

I wrapped one arm around Doug’s neck and one around his waist as we danced closely.

It may seem like we were flirting. But we weren’t. We were all very comfortable with each other, so we could be as touchy feely without worry. 

When Rebel Heart first really started touring, I individually made all of us vow that regardless of how close we got, regardless of how intoxicated we were, we would never have sex. It would just mess up our friendship, and possibly our band. 

Because of that boundary, we could do whatever we want, knowing we would never fuck.

Doug and I continued to dance until I felt a hand on my back.

It was Lars. Lars, being the playful guy he was, twirled me around before pulling me close to him. He playfully wagged his tongue at Doug as we continued to dance.

Was I tipsy? Yes. But this was all in good fun. 

As Lars grabbed my hips, I noticed a familiar head of curly hair adjacent to me.

You.

You were scowling. I could see the jealousy in your face, and the alcohol and feelings must’ve been getting to my head, because I gave Lars a kiss on the cheek before bouncing over to you.

You were still scowling. But as we started to dance, I could tell you loosened up. You starting chuckling, and wrapped one of your arms around my hips. 

I wrapped one of my arms around your neck, stood on my tip-toes and whispered in your ear, “You look good.”

You did, truly. You were wearing a black suit jacket and black pants, but a red silk button up underneath.

Not what I expected, but I wasn’t complaining. 

You just smirked, leaned back down, and whispered, “You too, sweetheart.” I could smell the alcohol on your breath as well, which overpowered the familiar smell of soap and cinnamon.

Now the alcohol was really getting to me. I placed a kiss on your cheek as you led me off the dance floor towards a roped area.

“VIP,” you whispered, your hand on my lower back as you led me in.

The VIP area consisted of rich looking men, gorgeous women, and rows upon rows of white couches.

I started to head to where I saw James, Jason, and Michael were sitting, but you guided me somewhere else. 

“We’ll see them in a minute.”

As we sat down on a secluded couch, you pulled out a cigar from your pocket. 

You puffed your cigar, and I couldn’t help but be entranced by you; the way you pushed your curls back, the way your hands lit the cigar, the way your heavily ringed clad fingers clasped it. 

God damn. I really needed to break up with Sid.

“Here.” You lightly stuck the cigar in my mouth, and told me to puff. I did.

“Good girl,” you smirked as you took the cigar back. 

I just giggled and grabbed your free hand. 

“Kirk. Let’s dance.”

I led you towards an even more secluded area of the VIP section I had been eyeing. The bass was heavy, the alcohol was hitting me, blood was running through my veins and I was so overwhelmed and so focused on you that I didn’t care. I wrapped my arms around your neck while you did so to my waist.

Your shirt was buttoned in the middle, so that your upper chest and a lower stomach were exposed. You had a tattoo on your side, and as I eyed it more closely, I noticed it was a big flame. 

I would make sure to ask you about that later.

I lightly traced my finger around it, and you wrapped your arms even more tightly around me. I let out a small squeak, and you grinned. 

We started dancing. We were chest to chest, just like we were when we first hugged. My hands gathered themselves in your hair while your hands lightly made their way down my back. 

The smell of alcohol was heavy. But the feeling of lust was even heavier.

You were grinding on me and I was grinding on you and God, I needed more.

You suddenly flipped me around so that my back was pressed against your chest. Now I could really feel your buldge increase as it pressed into my lower back. I grinded slowly on you, as your hands trailed their way down my chest and towards my waistband.

“Kirk.”

“Taylor.”

We practically moaned each other’s names as your fingers reached my waistband

I knew that we were in the middle of a club. We were secluded, in which we were only viewable by people in VIP and no one was paying attention. However, we were still in public, but I didn’t care. I needed you, I needed your fingers, I needed your body. I needed you to fuck me in that corner, or even on the goddamn dance floor, I didn’t care. I didn’t care that we were in public, or about Sid, or about anything. I just wanted you.

I’m sure at the time, this was mainly just a mix of alcohol and lust. I did like you, but I usually wouldn’t have been that desperate. But I did need you so badly, and I needed to feel you.

You then started to reach for the button on my jeans, and I practically sank into you. You were reaching to it, you were unbuttoning it, and then-

“Kirk? Come on, I ordered us drinks.”

We practically lept away from each other as we turned to see who was behind you.

Fucking Jason.

“Yeah Jason, we’re coming,” Kirk grumbled, as he adjusted his shirt. I buttoned my pants and followed you towards Jason and the other guys.

I had practically sobered up, I was so mad. 

Of course this had to get interrupted.

But I guess it was a good thing. Or else you would’ve been probably been fucking me against the wall of a fucking English club.

If we were ever going to have sex, which I wasn’t even sure of at this point, I wanted it to be good. Not rushed.

As I headed towards you and the guys, I remember feeling a sense of disappointment. I felt like this was our only chance, and it was ruined.

I didn’t even think of Sid. I just thought of you.

But it wasn’t our only chance, as I learned later. We may have been drunk, but the lust was genuinely there.

We just wouldn’t learn that just yet.

Later that night, we stumbled towards the tour bus and crashed. You were on your own bus.

The next morning, we all, as a group, walked into Heathrow airport. We were flying to Hungary for our show the next night. 

As we waited for our plane, we were all exhausted, so we stayed pretty quiet. But then you walked over to me, and as soon I saw the seemingly regretful and awkward look on your face, I knew that you didn’t want me. I knew that last night didn’t mean anything to you, and you regretted it. You were drunk. I was drunk too, but I did genuinely want you. 

Even though fucking Sid was still in the picture. 

I guess your lust only came from alcohol.

You sat down and placed your hand on my knee. You looked uncomfortable. Like one would look if they had to break the news to a kid that their dog died.

“Taylor,” you said. 

My name still sounded perfect spilling out of your mouth. But from your tone, I didn’t believe this would be a perfect conversation. 

“We need to talk.”


	6. solos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the delay! 
> 
> i've decided to update every other thursday, just so I can stay on track. also, please continue to leave kudos and comment! it'll really motivate me to update.
> 
> enjoy!

Rejection is something I should be used to. Everyone in the entertainment industry should be used to it. Rebel Heart got rejected countless times until we got picked up by our label. Before Rebel Heart, I was rejected from so many bands. But regardless of how many times I’ve been rejected, it’s still incredibly hard for me to deal with personal rejection. And personal rejection is what I was going to get.

I knew that you were going to tell me not to take last night too seriously. You were drunk. You were horny. I was just a body to you, not anything more. But did my prior knowledge mean that I was any more accustomed to deal with it?

No.

As you looked me in the eyes, I knew you were going to break the truth to me, and I broke.

“I was drunk last night,” I blurted out. “It didn’t mean anything. Sorry.”

I looked down, not wanting to see your reaction. 

“Oh.”

I looked back up. Your eyes were now filled with...was it disappointment?

What?

“Oh,” you repeated. “Um, I was just gonna say the same thing, I guess. Like if you were uncomfortable, I’m sorry, I was drunk, and yeah. Sorry.”

This was the first time I had seen you stumble. Most of the time you were cocky and confident. What was it about this conversation that made you uneasy?

But you also didn’t say you regretted it. Which confused me even more.

“Oh, okay. Uh, yeah.”

Thank God we were called to board the plane at that moment, or I don’t know if either of us could’ve dealt with that awkward situation. 

But now you thought that I regretted last night. Which I didn’t. Fuuuuck.

Hopefully I would be able to convince you otherwise. I was still with Sid, so I didn’t need you to know that I liked what we did last night.

I guess.

My god. I’m overreacting. It’s not like we had sex. We didn’t even kiss. Why am I taking this so seriously? We just grinded on each other, it’s not a big deal.

Ugh. 

At least our show in Hungary went well. Afterwords, I called Sid. I had been meaning to call him for a while, I did miss him. Plus, he was supposed to come to our Berlin show, as the band he was touring with would be in Germany at the same time.

He was an incredible producer and sound engineer, and he was on tour with another band as a sound manager.

“Sid. Hey.”

I cradled the phone as I hovered close to the payphone. Our phone was broken, so I had to use the one on the Metallica tour bus.

“Taylor! How are you, babe? How’s tour?”

“Good, good. It’s a dream come true, honestly. How are you?”

“I’m alright. But, before we talk anymore, I just wanna say I’m sorry for what I said before tour. I didn’t mean it, you know I think you’re so talented. I’m sorry.”

Oh, yeah. I forgot to mention. 

A few days before I left for tour, Sid and I got into a huge fight. He was mad that I didn’t tell him how long the tour was, and I was mad at him for not telling me about his tour. We yelled, we threw things, we equally said terrible things about each other, and each other’s talent. Being our young, sexually driven selves, however, it ended with Sid angrily (and consensually) fucking me on the kitchen floor.

Oops.

Angry sex is sometimes necessary for us.

But we said what we said, and the morning before I left for tour, he gave me a kiss and said we would talk about it. He didn’t want to break up. I didn’t either. I thought I could handle the distance, but I honestly couldn’t. And if I was gravitating towards you, that wasn’t fair to him. Plus, his tour ended later than mine, so we wouldn’t be together for over a year. It wasn’t worth it.

That also made me think if I was leaning towards you solely because I missed Sid.

But I couldn’t think about that now. Sid and I were on okay terms, and I was going to break up with him when he came to Berlin. It’s okay. I could do it.

I wouldn’t mind being single anyway.

“It’s okay. I’m sorry also,” I hesitated. “Um..how’s your tour?”

Sid laughed, and then started to whisper. “It’s good. Our tour manager is a fucking dictator, though. I can’t stand him.”

“Walker?” I laughed. “Yeah, I know. He was ours in ‘89.”

I then looked up. You were walking by, and you waved to me as I waved back. As if I needed any more mental conflict.

“Yeah, and he refuses to do shit. The venue in Berlin is being a bitch, and Walker won’t do shit about it. He’s all hippie and shit, I’m so sick of it.”

“Wait, what about Berlin?” I asked. “Aren’t you coming to that date?”

Sid sighed. “Taylor, babe, I really want to. But we may need a few extra days in Berlin, so I need to stay with my band. I’m sorry.”

“Oh.” I was disappointed, of course. I wanted to see Sid. But I also wasn’t sure I could break up with him yet. I knew that the main reason I wanted to break up was because of the distance. But I knew that there was an underlying reason as well.

Never mind that. I had some time to think. That was all I needed. 

“But I checked both of our schedules, and we’re gonna be in Paris the same time you are. So I’m planning on coming to that show, if that’s okay with you.”

“Yeah! Yeah that sounds good. Talk soon.”

I smiled and hung up. Good. I would be able to see him soon, but not too soon. Good.

At the Berlin show, so much press was happening that I was even happier that Sid wasn’t there. 

As our Paris show drew closer, I honestly couldn’t focus too much on Sid. Due to popular demand, we had lengthened our set. We had a lot of European fans, which I didn’t expect. But we also had to practice the new set, which meant that our usual pre and post show activities of relaxing had to be swapped with practicing.

For our song Flight Falls, Andy and I had decided to switch guitar parts. That meant I was playing lead, and I was playing the solo. On tour, I rarely had time to practice lead, because I played rhythm. But I had really wanted to play lead for at least one song, so all my free time not practicing with my band was spent practicing that solo. 

I needed it to be perfect. I needed it to be.

Before our show in Oldenburg, Germany, my band had collectively decided to debut the new setlist there, as we had practiced enough. So that meant that instead of drinking the night before and sleeping in until our set, like usual, I spent the whole morning practicing that god damn solo. 

I was in my own room of the venue. I needed to be alone, I needed to master this solo. 

As I adjusted the bass setting on my amp, I heard a knock on the door. 

I needed time to practice, and everyone knew that. Who the fuck was this?

And of course, it was you. The devil himself. 

“Hey,” you said softly, peeking your upper half through the door. You then fully stepped in, guitar and amp in tow. You raised your eyebrows, and I sighed and beckoned you in.

You were the only person who I wouldn’t have yelled at. Fuck you.

“You’re having trouble with the solo?” You asked, plugging your guitar in, without invitation.

“Yeah. It’s this stupid trill part that I can’t fucking get. Everything else is fine.”

You nodded. “Yeah. We have that in Sad but True. You just gotta position your hand correctly. Like this.”

You then, to my surprise, played the solo for Flight Falls. I raised my eyebrows. You just smirked and said, “Told you I’ve listened to you.”

We spent the next twenty minutes practicing, but I still couldn’t get this goddamn trill down. I was getting frustrated, but you stayed calm. You had more experience than me, after all.

“Can I try something different?” You asked hesitatingly. I nodded, clenching my jaw.

You set your guitar down and stood up. You then came up behind me and wrapped your arms around so that your hands were on mine. Your breath was hot on the back of my neck, and the smell of soap and cinnamon was overpowering. 

I was confused. But I wasn’t complaining.

We were both breathing heavily.

You guided my fingers with yours to play the trill, and then motioned for me to do it myself.

I did.

You grinned, and said, “Good girl. Now do it again.”

And I did. Somehow, you were able to help me. Fuck you.

You then sat down next to your guitar again. 

“I’ll play rhythm, and you play lead. Come on. One more time.”

You played the opening chords of Flight Falling, and I soon joined in with the lead.

I had gotten it down. Thanks to you.

You dramatically bowed. “There you go. You got it. Good luck.”

And then you were gone, almost as quickly as you had entered. 

What the fuck just happened?

You were still my idol. Regardless of how close we would get, you would always be my idol. And you helped me play a part of my song. What the fuck.

I did have to give you credit, though. Because that night, onstage, when we played Flight Falls, I did master the solo. Between my heart thumping quickly, the sweat pouring down my face, the rushing adrenaline, the cheers of the crowd, your thumbs up I saw from the side stage, I was overwhelmed.

For the first time since tour had started, I was able to watch your set. After every show, I had wanted to watch you, but I either passed out or had press.

Wow. You were just as good as when I saw you five years ago. 

During Puppets, right before you went into your solo, you looked right at me backstage and winked. During your solo, you improvised. And I swear, you had played a measure from the solo from Flight Falls. That same trill, I swear to God. You teasing fucker.

That night, I passed out, but after our show in Modena, Italy, I couldn’t sleep again. This was one of the best shows I had ever played, and I truly think it was the adrenaline keeping me up. I didn’t want any drugs (though I had acquired my own stash), so I instead grabbed a pack of cigarettes and sat outside.

When I saw you sitting outside, smoking, you grinned and beckoned me towards you. 

I just laughed softly and ran my hand through my hair.

We were both tired and it was late, so I knew this would be good. Your smirk told me that you agreed.

I was nervous. But also excited. I wanted to see what you wanted to talk about this time. 

My idol. 

I didn’t know what we would talk about. But I knew it definitely would be interesting.


	7. bottles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> early update AND this is the longest chapter yet! i'll try to update by next thursday. next chapter will be good. enjoy!

We didn’t even greet each other. Instead, I plopped down next to you, already lighting the cigarette that was in my mouth.

“Hey, who were you on the phone with before?” You asked, as you examined your lighter.

Damn. We were going right into it.

I could lie. I could say that it was just family, and there would be no further discussion.

But I was young, and I often made irrational decisions for my own entertainment. I knew that you had jealous tendencies, and I didn’t mind provoking them.

I was young. And stupid.

“Oh. My boyfriend. He was supposed to come to our show in Berlin, but he’s coming to Paris instead. We were just talking about that.”

I could feel you tense up. You didn’t respond as you took another drag from your cigarette.

But then I realized that pushing you away wasn’t smart, either.

“Can I complain for a second?” I asked. What was I doing, I didn’t know. But my mind was corrupted with my want for you, but also the fact that I had a boyfriend, but also the fact that I didn’t even know if you wanted me or not.

You nodded. “Sure.”

I guess that short stint of trying to make you jealous was over.

“Just…” I took a drag of my cigarette. “I don’t know. I guess cause you’re a guy you’ll be able to help me understand this and what he would want. I don’t know. I just.. I really do like Sid. I do. But we’ve gotten in a lot of, like, terrible fights, and also, I’m gonna be on the road for basically a year. I’ll probably see him once or twice, but that’s it. And it’s not like I have all the free time in the world. I just… I can’t. And like, I’m sure you’ve had to deal with long distance so just....I don’t know.”

I was so stupid. I was complaining about my boyfriend to the guy who I would consider cheating on him with. But I was young, okay. And dumb.

You hesitated. You then ashed your cigarette and started to talk.

“You don’t need to hate yourself for not wanting to do long distance, Taylor. It’s a valid problem. If you don’t think you can handle it, just tell him. I doubt he wants to be away from his girlfriend for a year either. How long have you been dating?”

“A few months,” I grumbled.

“Yeah, it hasn’t been that long. It’s not like you’re married. You can always just take a break and try things again after tour.” 

This is how I came to realize that you were a good person. Regardless of our possible feelings for each other, you were helping me through this.

“Yeah. I guess. Thanks.”

You nodded. But then you looked at me, and said, “Is that the only reason you want to break up with him, Taylor?”

You knew. 

God.

I looked into your eyes. And then I scoffed.

“Basically.”

I knew you were watching me as I took another drag of my cigarette. I looked at you again and smirked. 

I was all drugged up, tired and horny. I don’t know why I was talking about Sid to you. But we were having fun.

You shifted. “I, uh kinda get what you’re saying though. There’s a girl at home for me too.”

My heart dropped. What?

I know I had told you about Sid. But I also said that I was breaking up with him. And now you’re telling me about your girlfriend?

“Not a girlfriend.” You quickly corrected yourself. “At least… not right now. 

I didn’t respond. I gripped the cigarette so hard it snapped, and started to light another one.

“It’s complicated.” You shifted. “We were never really together. I dunno, just nevermind.”

“No, it’s okay.” I tried to make it seem like I wasn’t pressing him. But in actuality, I wanted to know everything about this girl.

“Fine. But then you have to talk to me about Sid.” Your eyes sparkled, and I scoffed and playfully pushed you.

“Fine.”

“Do you know the band Starlight? They’re alt rock.”

“No. But Doug probably does. He loves alt rock even more than metal.”

You chuckled. 

“Well, they’re an alt rock band from Chicago. And one of them is a Brit.” You gave a small laugh, and I swear your laugh was mesmerizing. “We were headlining a festival in ‘89 and they were playing the show before us on the same stage as us. The singer, Emily, we met kinda before the show, but there was an after party and we drank and, yknow, she ended up spending the night.”

You scratched his head sheepishly. 

“But then we met again at another party, and we kept running into each other so we started meeting up and I dunno, it just happened. We were both touring artists and we still made time to see each other. We never officially dated, but it was like that for a while until we’ve kinda been losing touch. But if she flirted with someone else, I still don’t think I’d be happy.”

I nodded slowly. “Okay. I think I got it. We’re basically in the same position then.” 

You responded by taking a drag of your cigarette and passing it to me, as mine had burnt out. 

“So now tell me about your boyfriend.”

I scoffed. “He’s only been my boyfriend for a few months. But it’s basically the same story. He rented out his studio to us, we met up again a little later and hooked up, and then it led to a kinda regular thing, and then we started dating.”

You nodded. “Alright. So we’re kinda in the same position.”

You then looked at me. 

“Do you love him?”

I was taken aback. Why you cared if I loved him, I didn’t know. 

“I don’t know.”

I paused, taking another drag. 

“Do you love her?”

He blew out smoke through his nose. 

“I don’t know.”

I nodded. 

I know that it was too early to get into this deep conversation. But something between us clicked, and it didn’t seem uncomfortable or forced. 

“Are you, uh, gonna see her on tour?” I asked.

You shook your head. “Not in Europe. But maybe in the US. I don’t know.”

You gave a little laugh, and then said, “To be honest, I don’t really care. I’m not a huge relationship person. I can be separated from someone without, like, freaking out or anything.”

I turned to you. 

“You’re not?”

You shook your head again. “No. Not saying that I’ll never be a relationship person. I was with someone in ‘85. We dated for like 8 months, but then we broke up and she married another dude.”

“I’m sorry-”

“No, it’s okay. I broke up with her. I just wasn’t feeling it anymore. It’s just-” you paused.

“It’s hard for me to commit. Because why should I commit to someone when there’s a chance that I could meet someone better?”

You looked at me and scratched your head. 

“It’s a fucked up thing to say, I know. But I’ve met so many fascinating people over the years, why should I commit to one person when there’s so many other different people I could meet? I don’t know. I like variety. And I do like Em, more than I’ve liked other people. But she’s just one type of person. I could meet someone else who I connect with, and why should I not be allowed to be with them? I just can’t see myself committing when there’s so many different types of people I could be with?”

I nodded. “I get it. But for me, if I find someone I like, I just wanna be with them right away. I don’t like to not do things because of things that could happen. I like order. But at the same time…… I don’t know. I get the feeling of wanting something new. But Emily knows that about me.”

I was heavily, heavily alluding to Sid. I don’t know if you realized; I didn’t even realize at the time. 

How ironic was this. I was disagreeing with you, yet you were describing why I was planning to break up with Sid. 

“Yeah. I just like to know that there are always more people, you know.”

You turned to me and looked me straight in the eye. I could feel chills down my spine.

“Yeah.”

Now, I knew what you were implying. But at the time, I was so fucking young and naive that I couldn’t grasp anything. 

Our next show was in Dortmund, Germany. We were playing two dates, and then there was the Paris show, three days later. 

The show with Sid.

Sid was gonna come that afternoon. Hopefully, he would be late so I would have more time to decompress. 

Jordan had booked us for a small festival date in Lyon, France two days before our Paris show, so we would make a quick detour and meet up with Metallica and their crew in Paris the night before the show.

I was nervous out of my fucking mind. And so, before our festival date in France, with the knowledge that I would be seeing Sid in two days, I got drunk before the show.

I didn’t mean to. Honestly. I never drink or do drugs the day of a show, especially an hour before showtime. 

But I was alone in our tent before the show, like usual, and I had nothing to do and I was thinking about Sid and I was thinking about you and I didn’t want to think anymore. So I grabbed the bottles of vodka from our mini fridge and drank.

And drank.

And drank.

Forty minutes and two bottles of vodka later, I was nearly passed out on the couch, slipping in and out of consciences when Jordan shook me awake.

“Taylor! You’re on in 10. Come on.”

He then eyed the empty bottles of vodka and I could hear him sniff, as if he was trying to smell my breath.

He leaned in.

“Taylor, I don’t know what the fuck you did but you better perform well. Come on.”

I stumbled out of the tent, and strapped on my guitar, my hands shaking.

“Taylor?” Doug asked, grabbing his drum sticks. “Are you okay?”

I must’ve looked a mess. I did look like a mess, from the videos I saw later. I had on jeans and an oversized Jack Daniels shirt (fitting, I know), and my hair was wild. Good thing I was wearing dark sunglasses, or else they would’ve been able to tell from my bloodshot eyes alone that I was intoxicated.

I just lifted my hand in response, and ran my other hand through my hair. Doug looked like he wanted to say something else, but he was motioned onstage. He gave me another look and then headed up the steps.

As Doug started to play his drum solo, it felt like explosions were going off in my head. It was so painful, I needed to lie down immediately. I sat back on the stairs, my head in my hands.

Keep in mind, we were due to go onstage in literally a minute. 

“Taylor? What the fuck are you doing, get up!” The crew was yelling at me, Andy and Michael were yelling at me, I couldn’t take it. Tears were running down my face, I couldn’t perform, I had to break up with Sid soon and I felt like I was going to pass out. I just wanted to be in bed, not about to perform to over a thousand people.

And then, the drumming stopped. 

This wasn’t normal. Usually, we would come onstage as Doug started to speed up his drumming. But he wouldn’t stop. He was a fucking beast onstage; he went the hardest out of any of us. By the end of our set, we’d all be soaked in his sweat due to how hard he went. So for him to stop meant something was wrong.

I looked up, and I could see him hold up one finger to the crowd before jogging down the stairs. 

“Taylor.”

I looked up. His olive colored Pantera shirt was already soaked with sweat, and his hair looked like he had just been in a rainstorm.

“Taylor.”

He cupped my face with his hands and looked me in the eyes. 

“Taylor, you need to do this. We have a whole crowd. It’s less than an hour okay? Please push through whatever is up and play your heart out like always. Please. We need you.”

I don’t know what it was about Doug that calmed me down. But through everyone screaming at me, I needed solidarity. And that was Doug.

I quickly stood up. 

“Yeah. Sorry,” I muttered.

Doug quickly hugged me and ran back onstage. 

He started drumming again, and the crowd screamed even louder than before.

Why did I have to drink?

As I followed Andy and Michael up the steps, I pushed my glasses up my nose, hoping that they wouldn’t fall off. My head was pounding and I felt weak, but I had to push through it.

I stumbled up to the mic. 

“France, how the fuck are you??!”

I slurred my words, but only a little.

The crowd cheered in response, I swear, the energy of the fans influenced me more than any type of alcohol. I didn’t feel as fuzzy, and I felt like I could efficiently perform.

We decided to cover Good Mourning by Megadeth, solely because it was the morning. Kind of. To hear the cheers grow even louder as Michael and I played the opening notes felt like a drug. Being onstage, playing for hundreds of people was a dream and a drug all wrapped in one. 

I ended up playing alright. Even Jordan said that he was surprised I kept it together. He also said that alcohol will be restricted if I did this again, as if he was my fucking dad. But I wasn’t too mad about that- I knew not to get drunk before most shows either way. 

Ugh. 

We headed to Paris that night. The trip was a little more than four hours, but this was our tour bus so we could really fall asleep whenever. I wasn’t really drunk anymore, so I took one of Andy’s xanax's to help me fall asleep.

By the time we got to Paris, I was sleepily awake. It was nearly 1am, and everyone else was passed out. I looked outside, and saw someone smoking a cigarette. I didn’t know if it was you or someone else but I didn’t really care. I needed to be alone.

I was so anxious for the next day, the day that I would see Sid and break up with him, that the anxiety alone made me feel wide awake. 

I wasn’t breaking up with Sid because of you.

At least, that’s what I told myself. It wasn’t because of you, per se, but meeting you showed me how many other people there are and how I may meet new people on tour, and I don’t want to be restricted because of Sid. I also wanted to make our relationship professional again- there were many opportunities that were missed due to the fact that I was dating Sid, and he couldn’t show favoritism. 

I was doing the same thing as you. The same thing I mentally chastised you for, a lack of commitment due to the potential of new people- I was doing the same thing.

Fuck.

My thoughts were too much. I decided to go outside and smoke. 

I didn’t know if I wanted you to be there. But as I stepped outside and saw your familiar face, a feeling of relief washed over me. 

But that feeling of relief led to a feeling of guilt, and as I felt tears well up in my eyes, I walked over to you and asked for a hug.

You ashed your cigarette and looked up.

“What?”

But you must’ve seen how distraught I looked, because when I sat down, you gathered me in your arms. 

We spent the next half hour in silence, sharing a cigarette as I inched closer to you. I felt so, unbelievably guilty. I was going to see my boyfriend in less than 24 hours and here I was, cuddling someone else. I felt sick.

But I didn’t stop. I didn’t get up and walk away, or even stop leaning on you. I just seemed to keep melting into you.

Though I enjoyed the feeling of being in your arms, the steps we were sitting on were uncomfortable. I kept falling asleep and jolting back awake, and you must’ve noticed how I kept shifting on the steps.

“Hey. I know a more comfortable place.”

You stood up, holding my hand as you walked inside of your tour bus.

It was much bigger, and much nicer than ours. There were four main chambers for each band member, with a big bed.

You sheepishly pointed to your own bed, and said, “Um, if you want, you can sleep here. I’ll be right here.” He motioned to a couch next to the bed. 

I felt like I was in a trance, because I shook my head and pointed to the bed instead. You raised your eyebrows and climbed into the bed, while I followed suit. You lightly kissed the back of my neck, as I wrapped your arms around me.

Here I was, in bed with my idol the night before I was going to see my boyfriend. But I didn’t feel guilty anymore. I felt solidarity.

I closed the curtains, and drifted into slumber with you.

Let’s just hope that we would wake up before everyone else.


	8. movies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next few chapters are already written and should be up soon! a lot happens in those, and please continue to comment!!
> 
> enjoy!

I woke up to coldness.

My ankles were exposed, and were right next to the air conditioning. Cool blasts of air were blowing directly on them.

I grumbled and threw the blanket over my body. The clock said it was 7am, and I just wanted to fall back asleep.

But then bits and pieces from last night came back to me, and the last thing I could remember was climbing into bed with you.

I was intoxicated last night. I couldn’t remember much.

Except now, I was alone.

I rubbed my eyes and looked around.

“Kirk?” I called out.

“Hey.”

I turned and saw you sitting on the couch, paper in hand. There was a polaroid picture on the couch next to you. You were wearing sweatpants and a faded Fleetwood Mac shirt.

I rubbed my eyes. 

“Why are you up so early?” My voice was still raspy.

You shrugged. “Don’t really sleep much. Go to sleep late, wake up early. Sleep isn’t really my thing.”

You seemed so chipper, regardless of the fact that it was 7 in the goddamn morning.

“Did we sleep together?” I asked abruptly, trying to untangle a hair tie from my hair.

Looking back, I don’t know why I was so forward. Of course I knew that we didn’t sleep together.

You chuckled. “We didn’t have sex, sweetheart. You don’t remember?”

Memories came flashing back. Crying on the steps, sharing a cigarette, falling asleep in your arms.

“Oh.”

I leaned back on the bed. 

“Oh yeah.” 

“What are you reading?” I asked. I was flat on my back.

I could hear you laugh. “It’s nothing. Just a schedule for our North American tour.”

I laughed. “Just.”

You shushed me. “Hey, you’re coming on it too. Don’t make fun.”

I pointed to the picture. “What’s that?”

Your smile dimmed. You tucked it under a pillow, and said, “Don’t worry about it.”

I hummed in response. I couldn’t be too bothered about it now.

“You should sleep, Taylor. It’s early.”

I was asleep before I even heard the rest.

When I woke up five hours later, you were gone. From the muffled guitar I heard, I could tell that you were soundchecking. This meant that I had the bus to myself. 

Reminded of the polaroid, I climbed out of the bed and walked over to the couch. I picked up the red pillow and looked.

It was still there.

I sat down and brought it up to my eyes. I had to squint to make out the picture, but when I did, my heart dropped and I quickly shoved it back on the couch.

It was you and a girl with raven colored hair. Probably you and Emily.

I sighed and flopped back onto the bed. I didn’t have time to be jealous now.

Because in less than 12 hours, I was seeing Sid.

God. I had to figure out how to word it to him. I still didn’t even know how I was going to break up with him. Fuck.

As I started to make a script in my head, I headed towards the entrance of the stadium. We would need to soundcheck soon. Metallica always went first, because of priority, but they wanted us to soundcheck quickly after. 

I was still wearing just a T-shirt and shorts. I didn’t care. I was so nervous to see Sid that I bombed, hard, during soundcheck. Jordan snapped at me again, asking if I was drunk, but I wasn't. I was nervous.

By the time we finished soundcheck and some press, it was 2. Sid wasn’t coming until 5. Show started at 7.

I was so nervous I wanted to die. My hands couldn’t stop shaking; that’s why I kept messing up the guitar parts in soundcheck. Ugh.

I had nothing to do for the next three hours. I was so nervous that I knew that if I was bored I would look for alcohol, and the worst fucking thing that could happen is that I would be drunk in front of Sid and onstage. 

I went back into your bus. I had left my sweatshirt in there, and your bed was much more comfortable than mine anyway.

I walked over, grabbed my sweatshirt, and then I heard a voice.

“Hey.”

I jumped. It was you, sitting on the couch, watching a horror movie. 

I put my hand over my chest. “Oh.” I laughed. “You startled me. I….was just getting my sweatshirt.” I held it up in proof.

You nodded. “Don’t worry.” You then turned back to the screen.

I hesitated, and then tentatively walked over to you and sat down. 

You looked at me and smiled, but turned back to the movie. You were an interesting one. Sometimes you would make me feel like the only girl in the world. Other times my existence constituted a mere acknowledgement. But you were always kind, and you did always go out of your way to greet me, unlike the majority of men in the music industry.

“Is this the Raven?” I asked, leaning back on my elbows.

You turned and made eye contact with me for the first time that day. “Yeah. You like horror?”

I shrugged. “I guess. Not a huge fan of the recent ones though. Except for Halloween. That was dope.”

You nodded. “Yeah. I like 50s and 60s movies a lot also. Horror has evolved so much, it’s all so good in different ways.

“Cheers to that.”

We sat in comfortable silence, watching the movie until suddenly, the TV went to static. You groaned. “Fuck.”

You got up and hit the side of the TV, but no luck. It was still static. You leaned back. “Fuuck.”

I quickly checked the time. It was only 3. Sid wasn’t coming until 5.

Fucking Sid. I wasn’t even thinking of him while I was with you, my mind was at peace until then. Now, there was even more conflict.

“Um, I have a TV in my bus if you want. It’s not as nice, but still roomy. We...can go there if you want.”

You grinned. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

As we walked across the lot, I felt that I needed to remind you about Sid.

We settled into the (much less comfortable) couches and flipped on the TV. 

I paused. “Just...keep an eye on the time. Um, Sid is coming in two hours.”

Your smile faded slightly. “Okay.”

But you still seemed happy and chill, and I was wondering if you smoked a joint. 

As we continued to watch the movie, I could tell that both of us were getting tired. And slowly, we started to inch closer and closer to each other. Whether it was because we wanted each other, or just wanted someone, I don’t know but within what seemed like minutes, I was leaning on you, just like last night. But your arm was around me, and our legs were tangled together.

God, I wish I could kiss you.

But Sid was coming, and I couldn’t do anything more than cuddle, because I know that if we started kissing it would escalate. However, it was only 4, so I wasn’t too worried yet. I was even feeling a little guilty right now, but I knew that I would feel more guilty with someone else.

But being in your arms felt so good, and the smell of soap and cinnamon was so comforting that I just wanted to curl up next to you and fall asleep.

And I nearly was. My eyes were fluttering open and closed, and the comfort of being in your arms made me even more sleepy. My mind was at rest as well, as I had calmed down about Sid. 

This was like a drug. I felt like I was high.

You wrapped your arm around me even more tightly, and I never wanted to leave. I had never felt this type of comfort, not with Sid, not with friends, not with anyone. It was only you.

Just as I snuggled up to you, I heard a knock on the door. I assumed it was Doug or Jordan or someone, and hopefully they would give up knocking and fuck off. I just wanted to be alone with you.

But the knocking persisted, and you gave me a little nudge, so I begrudgingly got up and went to answer the door. If it was Jordan, I swear I’d kill him. He knew I needed my alone time. If it was one of your bandmates, hopefully they needed something important (though I could never be mad at Metallica). 

But unless we had a show or soundcheck, Jordan left me alone. And it was still a few hours until showtime.

I opened the door, and my heart plummeted to the ground. 

I went cold, and my eyes went wide.

It wasn’t your bandmate. It wasn’t Jordan, and it wasn’t even Doug.

It was Sid.


	9. pink

It was his eyes that I noticed first.

The first thing that ever attracted me to Sid was his eyes. They were piercing blue, so blue that they looked out of place on his chiseled face. 

It’s slightly unsettling to look at Sid straight in the eyes. His eyes were so blue, and were juxtaposed so evidently with his rough face that it didn’t look right. But i never minded. I thought it was a mesmerizing contrast.

I nearly got lost in his eyes before I realized that it was actually him standing in front of me. 

Sid.

“Sid!” 

I rushed into his arms, and felt the familiar tight grip of him around me. 

“Taylor,” he whispered into my ear. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

I did miss him. He still, and always would, mean a lot to me. 

After we pulled away, I quickly looked over towards the couch. It wasn’t near the door, thank god, and you weren’t there anymore.

I assumed you slipped out the door.

Good. I didn’t want to deal with that now.

I stepped back to get a clearer look at Sid. He was huge, like he’d always been. 6’5. Hair buzzed down close to his scalp. Big arms, sharp features, muscular chest.

I would always tease him that he looked like Phil Anselmo’s long lost twin.

He wasn’t the type of person you would’ve expected to be a sound engineer. He looked like a bodyguard, or a bodybuilder.

The funny thing is, he was a bodyguard when he was first starting sound engineering.

Sid looked intense. He looked like someone you didn’t want to make angry, and that was true; I’d been out with him when something had gotten him angry, and he had exploded. You didn’t want to cross him.

He even made James look tiny.

But I was never intimidated by him. Not by his huge size, or his booming voice. I knew that he could beat me to a pulp if he wanted to. But I was never scared of him. Not because he was actually a gentle giant or anything. But because I could see right through him, and size was never something that intimidated me, regardless of the fact that he was a foot taller than me.

“What-why are you here so early? I thought you were getting here at 5.”

Sid chuckled. 

“Yeah, my train got in early. I have to leave early tomorrow morning, so I wanted to get here as early as I could.”

Sid would be staying the night. My bed wasn’t big enough for both of us, but that didn’t mean we still wouldn’t try.

At least, we were going to. Now, I don’t know what I would want. But I decided to break up with him tomorrow morning. 

However, I wasn’t as stressed about it as I was yesterday. I would do it later. No biggie.

As we continued to catch up, I noticed the time, and we started heading over to the stadium. He wanted to see all of my bandmates again.

“Sid?” I heard a voice yell as we entered the stadium. We both turned, and saw Andy running towards us. He jumped into Sid’s arms, and Sid chuckled as he continued to hug him.

Andy was only slightly taller than me, so to see him next to Sid was a comical sight. 

We were all close with Sid. I can’t even say that I was the closest because I was dating him; we were all close with him. 

As Michael and Doug came over and greeted Sid, and more members of the crew who Sid had worked with before gave him greetings, my mind started to wander.

I didn’t think it was fair to break up with him after he slept over. That would be an asshole move, and I could just pay for his train ticket home tonight or something.

I also came to terms with the fact that I wasn’t breaking up with him for you. I wasn’t. 

I was going to be away from Sid for almost a year, and he was going on tour as well. I would only see him maybe once, and we would always been on such different time zones so I would rarely be able to call him. There was no point, why would I stay in a relationship with someone who I would rarely be able to contact.

Sid must be able to understand that.

I wasn’t as stressed now; I fully established why I was going to break up with him.

We had a little over an hour until showtime at this point. I went to my dressing room to get fully dressed, and Sid followed me in.

“Taylor.”

Before I could even respond, Sid had me pressed up against the wall. He kicked the door shut, and started peppering my neck with kisses.

“Sid…..”

I lightly touched the back of his head. He reached up and pinned my hand against my side.

“I missed you…” He lightly bit my neck, as he reached down to the inside of my thigh, attempting to wrap my leg around him. 

“Fuck Taylor, be cooperative for me.” I could feel Sid gripping my other leg and starting to hoist me in his lap. 

“Sid.”

I lightly pushed his shoulders. “Sid. Stop.”

“Baby…” He placed his hand between my legs. “Come on. Let me fuck you like I did before you left. I want you.”

I squirmed under his touch. “Stop it.”

I pushed his shoulders, harder, and though it didn’t move him, he got the hint.

His eyes were narrowed as he stepped back and sat on the couch.

“What the fuck, Taylor?”

I looked away. 

“I don’t wanna have sex now, Sid. I have to go onstage soon.”

“That never bothered you before. What’s up your ass, Taylor?”

“Oh my god, Sid. I don’t wanna have sex right now. I’d rather not be fucking wet when I go onstage.” 

I looked down.

“Respect that.”

You gave an exasperated sigh. “Whatever. I thought you loved sex so much that you’d fuckin jump at the chance to have sex for the first time in a month. I wanted to feel you again, Taylor, I haven’t seen you in a month. But whatever.”

God Sid, could you not do this now?

“Sid, don’t fucking take it personally. I don’t wanna have sex right now. It’s not personal, deal with it.”

You abruptly got up, and headed towards the door. “Whatever.”

And then he was gone.

As I leaned back on the couch, I groaned and rubbed my eyes. I didn’t want sex with Sid now. 

I didn’t want Sid.

I should probably give you some background on him. I’ve told you before, of course, but let me go more in detail.

I met Sid when I was 17.

I know. He was 24. 

I always tell people I met him when I was 18, as to not get into an argument about legal terms or toxicity. But I was 17. We had just gotten to be in a studio, to record some of our very first EPs. 

He rented it out to us. 

And then after we finished recording our first songs, we had a little party in the studio which may have led to me giving Sid a blowjob in the storage closet.

Oops.

But then when he found out I was only 17, he freaked and wouldn’t talk to me during post production. I invited him to my 18th birthday as a joke, but to my surprise, he actually showed up.

That night ended in us sharing a bottle of expensive vodka, and the next day started with me waking up in my own bed, naked, with a naked Sid next to me. It was consensual, of course. And I didn't get drunk that night. I fully remember having sex with Sid for the first time. And I enjoyed it, a lot.

But I had had sex before I met Sid. A lot of people believed that Sid sexually manipulated me, and because I was so young, I didn’t have a grasp on sex yet. But I wasn’t a virgin. I had had sex with my (short lived) high school boyfriend, and I knew how to say no.

Just because we met when I was underage didn’t mean that it was toxic.

We had seen each other every few months since then, accidentally. We never planned to meet up. But we would constantly see each other at a show or a party, and at that point, we kind of had an unspoken agreement; if we saw each other, we would have sex. We weren’t committed. I wouldn’t think about him much. But when we saw each other, we would fuck.

This fling happened for nearly 3 years until a few months ago, when I saw Sid at yet another event, and when he pulled me into the pool shed, I was greeted by his words instead of his touch like usual.

He told me he wanted more than occasional sex. He wanted to get to know me, to hang out, to date.

I was kind of turned off by the word date. But Sid, with his piercing blue eyes and extremely charming personality convinced me to date him. And here we are.

I like Sid a lot. He’s extremely charming, and incredibly smart. But when he wants something, he’ll be an asshole until he gets it. He can change from Prince Charming to Major Asshole in the blink of an eye.

But I needed to forget about our history. I was going to break up with him after the show. I could do it.

When the time came for us to go onstage, I took one (only one- I wasn’t trying to get drunk) sip of beer that was in our dressing room, and headed out to grab my guitar. 

I noticed Sid talking to one of the sound guys, and headed over.

I was gonna be breaking up with him later. I wasn’t gonna be petty now.

“Hey,” I said as I bounded over. 

Sid, seemingly over the fact that I rejected him before, smiled and gave me a long kiss. He smiled.

“Hey.”

Damn. Did I really want to break up with him?

“We’re on in like, 10 minutes. Um, I just wanted to let you know.”

Sid let out a low laugh. “I know, Taylor. I’ll be watching.”

He gave me a quick peck on the lips before I headed back over to Doug, Michael and Andy to do our traditional pre-show group huddle.

I quickly glanced over at Sid. He was talking to a few people now.

I knew that I was going to break up with him. But I still wanted him to watch our show. 

We jogged up the steps during Doug’s drum solo, and were greeted by the normal cheers of the crowd.

“Salut, Paris!” I yelled before playing the opening chords of our first song. 

Today, I was solely focused on the show. In between songs, my mind would drift back to Sid, but I forced myself to focus on the show. 

During our last song, I glanced to side stage. Sid was still there, but now talking to a girl from the crew with long pink hair. Hm...

After our set was over, I felt great. Adrenaline was running through my veins, and my heart was beating fast.

I was going to break up with Sid. I would.

When I was backstage, I headed towards Sid. I was going to tell him to go to my bus, so we could talk privately.

Before I could walk over to him, Jordan stepped in front of me. 

“Taylor.” He said firmly. I looked around him, trying to find Sid, but he stood in front of me. I sighed and looked at him.

“Yes?”

He looked impatient. “Taylor, you have three interviews. Now. Come on.”

I quickly ran over to Sid and told him that I’d meet him in my bus in an hour or two. I then groaned and followed Jordan. Fuck. The last thing I wanted right now was an interview, let alone three.

But because this was a major city, this was expected. 

By the time I finished the interviews, Metallica’s set was almost finished. That meant that they wouldn’t be back in the bus for at least an hour.

Good. I needed privacy with Sid.

But before I went over to my bus, I took out a cigarette. I was going to break up with him.

I was so nervous I could barely light the cigarette; my hands were shaking. I could do it. I mentally had to coach myself through what I would say. I could do it. He’d understand.

After I grounded the filter into the ground with my boot, I walked towards my bus. The lights were on, so I knew Sid was in there- the other guys never went to the bus before midnight.

Just as I was about to go into the bus, I heard voices.

There’s no way that Doug, Michael or Andy would be in there. But I decided to check anyway. 

I crept around the side of the bus towards the window. I could hear the voices more clearly now, and Sid’s low gruff was easily recognizable. As I peeked inside the window, there he was. But then I saw a flash of pink and heard another voice- a higher voice, one that was laughing a lot.

I was confused. Who else would be in the bus? That voice was unfamiliar.

I stood on my tiptoes to get a better view of who Sid was with. I couldn’t see another person, but there were definitely two voices.

As I got a glimpse, I suddenly gasped as my heart dropped. I ducked below the window and slid my back down the side of the bus, breathing hard.

There was someone else in there. I was right. 

So that’s why I wasn’t able to see them.


	10. scratch

I knew that there were two voices. But I could only see Sid. That was until I stood even higher on my tip toes, stretching my neck up until I saw Sid’s jeans in a pile by his feet, and a familiar mess of pink hair in his lap.

He was moaning, but only a little. He was mostly talking, probably edging her on. 

I was so angry that my hands shook. I felt myself going red. 

How fucking DARE he bring a girl into MY bus, ESPECIALLY a girl who worked on our crew. 

I was so angry I couldn’t see straight. But I managed to get up, and storm into my bus. 

Thank god my band and Metallica were still in the venue.

I charged towards the couch, and my suspicions were correct; the girl from the crew was on her knees, in just a bra and panties, his cock in her mouth. Sid was moaning even louder, and his hand was tangled in her bright pink hair. 

“Come on baby, keep going, a little further,” Sid moaned, pushing her head down. I could hear her gag as she continued to bob her head up and down, and that previously absent pang of jealousy suddenly struck as I remembered how Sid would be that rough with me when we would have sex.

I was standing right there. But they were obviously so focused on each other that I wasn’t even noticed.

Sid’s loud moan brought me back to the present, as he obviously climaxed into her mouth. As she sat back on her knees and wiped her lips, I finally made my move.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

They both turned, abruptly; the girl jumped up, covering her chest while Sid calmy rested his elbow on the arm of the couch. 

“Babe….” Sid said lightly. I held a finger up. 

“Don’t. I saw her fucking sucking you off, don’t fucking deny it.”

Tears were welling up in my eyes. 

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” I roared, storming over to Sid and standing above him. “I bring you on my tour, I give you a place to sleep, I pay for your transportation and you let some girl blow you just because I wouldn’t let you fuck me before my set? Fuck you, Sid.”

I fell back on the parallel couch, sighing and looking up. When I looked back, Sid was fumbling with his belt, and the girl was still sitting there, looking confused.

I glared at her. “Why are you still here?”

She squeaked, quickly pulled her shirt over her body and practically sprinted out the door.

Once she was gone, I made direct eye contact with Sid. My eyes were filled with tears. I wasn’t even focused on the fact that I was planning on breaking up with Sid, and I wasn’t even relieved that this would be an excuse for me to break up with him.

I was sad. I know that I was going to break up with Sid, but I still cared for him. And I would never cheat on him, ever. 

Grinding isn’t cheating.

“Why?” I asked, my voice cracking. “Why would you do that?” Sid stayed silent. 

“Is it because I didn’t have sex with you before? Because...I would’ve. Eventually.”

That was a lie. I was planning on breaking up with him. But now, he didn’t have to know that.

Sid then gave a nasty chuckle, and spoke for the first time. “No, Taylor, it’s not because you wouldn’t have sex with me in that one moment. I’m not that much of a sexual deviant.”

“So quick-witted,” I snapped, though it was sniffly. 

But there was one issue that kept poking at me- why wasn’t Sid regretful, or at least trying to cover it up? It seemed like he was happy that I caught him, like this was all some planned elaborate scheme.

“This has been building up since before you even left, Taylor, or you that naïve to realize it?”

I snapped up. “Yeah, I did realize it, and you said that we would work on it. Don’t be a fucking hypocrite.”

“Yeah Taylor, because what else am I supposed to say to my girlfriend who’s about to leave for a year? I’m not that much of an asshole.”

“That’s fucking debatable,” I said under my breath. 

“Oh shut the fuck up, Taylor. You’re just as much of an asshole as I am.”

I was so enraged that I grabbed the thing closest to me, and hurled it at him. 

My aim was off, and as it shattered to the floor, I realized that it was a glass vase.

“You asshole!!!” I shrieked, as I started throwing more things at him, though nearly all of them missed. Now I was enraged. He cheats on me, and I’m the asshole?

“You bring a girl into my bus, you cheat on me in front of me, get out, get out, get the fuck out!” I cried as I hurled anything I could grab at him. 

“Fuck you!”

I saw Sid start to answer, but before he could, the door of the bus slammed open.

It was Doug, Michael and Andy, each holding two cans of beer. They stood there, silently, until Doug quietly said, “Do you want us to leave?”

I just shook my head as I grabbed Sid’s hand and attempted to pull him out of the bus. I snatched Michael’s beer from his hand as we headed out, and downed it in one gulp.

Sid avoided eye contact with them as he left, and they looked confused.

As we headed to a more secluded area of the lot, I whirled around.

“If you’re gonna cheat on me, why do it on my tour?” I snarled, now aggressively walking backwards. 

I stopped once we got to the corner of the lot..

“Oh, so you’re saying that I should cheat on you?” Sid asked nastily.

“Don’t fucking put words in my mouth,” I said angrily, pushing his chest.

“It’s a fucking BLOWJOB Taylor, big deal. You’ve been fucking your pretty boy Kirk for the past month, don’t get mad at me for one blowjob.”

I froze. I wasn’t even cheating on him with you, but did he know that we had our moments?

“What the fuck are you talking about, Sid?”

Sid just snarled. “It’s fucking obvious. I saw the way he looked at you.”

“Sid, I didn’t even see Kirk when I was with you. What the fuck are you talking about.”

Sid just shook his head. 

“Nice try, Taylor. I saw him look at you when we were walking backstage. He wanted you.”

“I didn’t even see him, Sid,” I pleaded. “And I’m not having sex with him.” 

Before I could respond, I heard footsteps. I turned, and of course, saw you in the corner of my eye walking to your bus. Fuck. I couldn’t be near you now. I didn’t want you to hear this. We made quick eye contact, but I then dragged Sid away to another behind the Metallica bus. 

“Sid,” I said quietly. “I’m not fucking Kirk. I wouldn’t cheat on you.”

When he didn’t respond, I sighed and said, “Is that why you got a blowjob from her? Because you thought I was cheating on you?”

Sid still was silent. 

“God, Sid fucking answer me.”

It’s like he was playing a game, and trying to antagonize me.

This is it.

“We need to break up.”

Sid finally looked up. “What?” he snapped.

“I. am. breaking. up. with. you,” I said through gritted teeth. The tears started to well up again, oh no. 

“Taylor, is this because-“

“That’s not the only reason,” I interrupted him. “I’m gonna be away for a year. I can’t date right now.”

I didn’t feel like explaining any more. He had cheated on me, so it’s not like this should be a surprise.

When I looked up, Sid looked….angry. More than angry. Livid. 

For the first time since I’d met him, I was scared of him. Of what’d he do.

I looked away.

“I’ll pay for your cab, Sid. But you need to leave.”

Before I could hear a response, I was being shoved up against the side of the Metallica bus, Sid’s hand pressing against my mouth.

For the first time tonight, I smelt alcohol on his breath. That explains a lot. 

“I’m not taking no for an answer this time, Taylor,” he growled as he shoved his hand up my shirt, pulling at my bra.

“Be a good girl,” he breathed, though I was very obviously trying to resist his touch.

“Sid, get off,” I groaned, trying to push him off. He continued to suck at my neck, moving his hand from under my shirt to try to get under my waistband.

“Sid,” I pleaded.

I used to be grateful that Sid never hit me or assaulted me, because he was so strong that he would definitely overpower me. Not that he should be praised for not being an abusive piece of shit, of course. But I guess my luck ran out, because he was trying to get into my shorts. And he was succeeding.

I pulled up my shorts so that he couldn’t pull them down. But he then moved his hand from my mouth to pin my hand to the side of the bus.

I didn’t want to do this, Sid. But I had to.

I had just filed my nails that morning. They were long and sharp, a perfect weapon. Without thinking, I ripped my hand from his grasp, reached under Sid’s shirt and scratched his side as hard as I could.

I wasn’t focusing on anything. I was just trying to draw blood.

“Fuck!” Sid yelled as he withdrew his hand from my body to touch his side. Taking this as my cue, I slid underneath his arm and ran.

I wasn’t that upset that Sid tried to have sex with me. I don’t know if this was assault, and I didn’t care- I wasn’t mentally affected by that itself. I was affected by the whole night.

But I wasn’t sexually traumatized or anything.

Sid had always been sexually aggressive. I was fine. 

I ran and ran until I got to my bus, but before I went inside, I turned around.

Sid wasn’t chasing after me. He was simply walking.

I stopped, but didn’t get any closer. “Sid…” I said slowly. He had a blank expression on his face.

“Sorry for scratching you,” I said softly. I threw some money on the ground. “Go home, Sid.” 

And that was the end of it. Sid sustained his pointed expression, and turned around and walked towards the street where he could call a cab. I sat on the steps of my bus and watched him call one, get in, and take off until the cab was simply a small dot in the distance. I sighed and placed my head in my hands.

Then, I started to cry. Quietly, but heavily. I didn’t want our relationship to end like this. 

As the sun started to rise, I gathered myself and headed back into the bus. The sky was light orange, with the buildings of Paris in the far distance.

I sniffed and rubbed my eyes. We only had two shows left. One more week. And then I could go home, for about a month, before we joined Metallica again on their North American tour.

I could do it.

As I laid awake in bed that night, all I could do is think. I was upset that Sid had cheated on me. I was upset that he assaulted me. I was upset that our relationship ended so dramatically.

But I was happy it ended. We would have confrontations like this all the time- nothing physical, but the screaming and crying. And I wouldn’t even be able to communicate with him while on tour. I mentally couldn’t be with him anymore. I needed to be free. And I was.

Hopefully I wouldn’t see him at any other parties. Because I definitely would not keep our tradition.

I knew that I couldn’t focus on Sid anymore. We were over. I didn’t need to worry about breaking up with him. He was out of my life.

We had two shows left, one in Barcelona and one in Moscow. I would rock the shit out of them, to make up for my prior underwhelming performances.

I would forget about Sid. Things would be at peace. I would have a peaceful break from tour. 

Looking back, it’s funny that I thought that. Just because I was free from Sid, that didn't mean my guy issues just disappeared.

Not even close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i decided that i'm going to TRY and update every thursday. however, i can't promise that, but i can promise that chapters will be posted no more than two weeks after the previous one.
> 
> enjoy!


	11. oceans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> longest chapter yet! enjoy!
> 
> big kirk+taylor moments coming very soon

On our last day of tour before break, there was honestly too much going on for me to sit around and be sad about Sid. I had my day of crying and eating, but I was better. I felt free. I wasn’t stressed anymore. 

Our last show was in Moscow, and though it was only September, I was still freezing when I went into the Moscow venue. It wasn’t even a venue; it was just a stage outside. 

Whenever the thought of Sid popped up in my mind, I would just force it away, and it would go away. I was free. 

Sid wasn’t even that bad during our relationship. But not being with him anymore felt liberating. 

Because we were preparing to wrap up AND preparing for our last show, I was too distracted by the prep to think about anything else. We had been rehearsing for over two hours, and even though we all felt prepared, Jordan made us practice even more.

“Jordan,” I groaned. “We got it. We’ve done this before.”

Jordan shook his head. “No. This is your biggest show ever. This is fucking Metallica’s biggest show ever. You guys gotta be perfect. Again.”

By the time that we were done practicing, we had less than an hour to get onstage. 

I could hear the crowd getting louder and louder, and the thought of you darted into my mind, though I quickly pushed it out. I can’t think about you now. I need to focus on the show.

As we strapped in our guitars and prepared to go onstage, I suddenly froze. This was going by too fast. This was a crowd of hundreds of thousands of people. This was huge. What the fuck.

Doug must have seen that I was starting to freeze up, and in order to avoid what happened at the festival, quickly jogged over and placed his hands on my shoulders. 

“Hey. You okay?”

I took a breath and quickly nodded. “Yeah. Let’s just do this.”

Doug gave me a lingering look, but then nodded and grabbed his drum sticks. 

He turned around to give me a nod, and opened the doors to jog up the stairs and onstage. 

Now I could fully hear the crowd. It was roaring. 

Chills ran down my spine, but I ignored them. As Doug sped up his drumming, I knew that was our sign to get on. Michael and Andy started to run up the steps, and I took a breath and quickly followed them.

The crowd was bigger than I expected. Much bigger. It didn’t even look like an audience, it looked like a sea of people. I froze abruptly. I couldn’t make anything out, at all. It was a fucking ocean.

This was the moment when I truly began to understand the God complex some artists had. I used to be frustrated by it; I was just so grateful to be in the industry, to be able to make a living off of my music that I could never get too caught up in myself; I was too busy trying to be grateful and humble. I thought that having too big of an ego would just make you think you’re better than you are, and the quality of your music would decline.

But as I stood in front of an army of people, all people who didn’t even come for us but were still cheering loudly, I understood the feeling of feeling like a God. All of these people, cheering for me. The power I had felt enormous.

My nerves seemed to slide off. I walked up the microphone, and instead of greeting the crowd like usual, I played the opening chords of our first song. 

The roar of the crowd was deafening, but instead of letting it deter me, I played even harder. As I stepped up to the microphone again to sing the opening verse, I couldn’t even hear myself.

The crowd was singing over me. They were singing along to my song, one that Michael and I had angrily written together in Penn Station when we were rejected by yet another label. 

But look where we were now. We had what seemed like a whole city of people singing along to my song. What the fuck.

Of course I had seen an audience singing our songs back to us, we had gone on a few small headline tours. But it was nothing like this. Not at all.

I incredulously looked over to Michael and Andy. They looked as amazed as I was. This was unreal. We were all functioning off of the crowd; the louder they got, the harder we played. 

Before our last song, I quickly grabbed the bottle of water on top of one of the amps and took a swig. I had been smiling so widely that my cheeks hurt.

“Moscow!” I yelled to the crowd, raising up my arms. They bellowed in response, and I wiped my forehead with my hand. I was so sweaty that my hand was drenched.

“This is our last song for the night.”

It wasn’t actually night yet. There was still a pink sunset in the sky, but I honestly didn’t care.

“And then…” I paused. “Are you ready for Metallica?”

The response I received was deafening, the loudest so far. But I wasn’t annoyed. We were opening, after all.

“For this last song, I want everyone to be jumping. I want your heads banging, and I wanna fucking hear you guys!!! Can you do that for me?”

Before the crowd could even respond, we launched into the chords for Flight Falls. 

I swear that the crowd during that song was one of the best we’ve ever had. A fucking ocean of people, all jumping up and down, and a collective sea of voices singing the lyrics back to me. It was like a drug. I felt like God.

Andy and I decided to do a dueling guitar solo. We jumped around the stage, switching solo parts and improvising different riffs. The crowd was going crazy.

As Doug slowed down his drumming, Michael, Andy and I sped up our playing. We were playing fast, faster, faster, until on the same beat, we all ended our solos at the same exact time. We had never been able to do that before, not on the same beat at least.

The feeling was euphoric. It felt like damn fireworks should be going off, because that’s how I felt inside. The crowd was cheering, loud, nearly as loud as they were when I mentioned Metallica. 

“Thank you Moscow!” I yelled into the microphone, as Doug quickly joined us for a final bow.

Our final bow in Europe.

I gave one last wave to the crowd, threw my picks, and headed offstage. 

As I walked down the stairs backstage, I felt superior. I was God.

But then I grounded myself, and rushed over to Michael.

“What the fuck was that??” I beamed, rushing into his arms. “That was fucking insane!! What the fuck?”

We were all incredulous. That crowd…..

And then, you popped back into my mind. I was never that open of a person, and I rarely talked about my emotions, but I wanted to tell you about the crowd. About the euphoria. But before I even had a chance to look for you, I felt a tap on my shoulder as I heard a gruff voice say my name. 

I turned, and to my surprise, it was James.

I gasped, slightly, and he must’ve noticed because he smiled knowingly and said, “Taylor. Hey.”

“Hey!” I said enthusiastically. Too enthusiastically. Shit.

But to be fair, at this point, I was just starting to be less starstruck around you. Other than in London, I hadn’t seen James in a non-professional setting. It had all been quickly backstage, or watching him onstage or at a party or something. And I had never had a one on one moment with him. 

It would be a while until I wasn’t flustered around him.

It would be a while until I wasn’t fully flustered with you.

He gave me a quick up and down, and then said, “Your set was really good.”

“Oh. Thanks!” I exclaimed, once again too enthusiastically. Fuck. 

“Yeah. I hadn’t been able to see you guys yet. Good job.” 

“Yeah, thank you. This crowd is fucking huge though, like I know you’re used to big crowds, but fuck man. You feel like you have so much power, its unreal.”

I was rambling. Fuck. But he just laughed and nodded.

“Yeah, it’s scary though. I still get nervous.” He gestured towards the entrance to the stage. “Our fans are amazing though. Best fans in the world.”

“Oh, definitely. Your fans are so dedicated, it’s so cool to see.”

“Yeah, and our fans are rough too. Them enjoying your set just proves how great you guys played.”

He then gave me a playful wink and walked away.

What the fuck.

Now, I was reminiscing over the crowd we just performed to, and relishing in the compliment James gave. I honestly felt so great, it was like a drug. 

It was addicting.

I thrived on that, on crowds, on power, on compliments. I didn’t even need drugs to be honest, because that exhilaration give me an equally satisfactory high.

But enough with drugs and highs. This was a great moment in our career, but in only a little over a month, we had to get home, rest, practice, and get back on the road again. Our nine month North American tour with Metallica would be intense, but I was so excited. I didn’t know what the next tour would bring, and I was excited to find out.

But next thing I had to focus on: the brunch. Your management was going to have a nice brunch at the end of a tour, a nice contrast to the regular grittiness of tour. The brunch would be in a fancy restaurant, with nice clothes, exquisite food, and expensive alcohol. Though I loved the griminess of tour, it would be a nice contrast from rewearing our dirty clothes and living off of greasy food and cheap beer. 

I needed to find something nice to wear. Shit.

I would look later. Because I needed to talk to Doug.

“Hey,” I said lightly as I approached Doug from behind, putting my hand on his shoulder. He was talking to Lars’s drum tech. “Can we talk?”

Doug nodded, and followed me back to one of the dressing rooms. I shut the door.

I wish I didn’t have to talk about this now. But as soon as I got offstage, this thought has been plaguing me and I knew that I would have a breakdown or something if I didn’t talk about it.

Doug sat back on the couch and put his hands behind his head. “What’s up?”

I took a breath. “Have...you talked to Sid?”

Doug sighed and slightly averted my stare. “Taylor…” he said lightly. 

My fight with Sid was only a week ago. But I hadn’t talked to him at all since then.

“I’m not asking to see if he talked about me,” I said quickly. “But just… did he tell you what happened?”

“Kind of,” Doug shrugged. “He just said you guys got into a fight and you aren’t dating anymore. But both of you are private people, so I didn’t push.”

I nodded. “Okay. Yeah, I’m sorry I thought you knew.”

“How would I have known Taylor? You didn’t tell me.”

“I’m sorry,” I said weakly. Talking about this was a bad idea. I looked down.

Doug and I were very open with each other. I get that he’d be ticked off that I didn’t tell him about Sid, even if they were friends.

“I just… I know you’re friends with him, like close friends, and I didn’t want it to be awkward or anything. 

Doug nodded. “Yeah. I understand.” He hesitated. “Just… I think we just have to separate you two. Because I am still friends with him. I can’t just drop him.”

I nodded. “I get it. Hopefully I just won’t see him again.”

Doug nodded awkwardly. “I think Michael and Andy are still friends with him. But we’ll just keep it seperate. It’ll be okay.”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

I then gave Doug a long hug. I needed a hug. I wasn’t sad about Sid again, genuinely, but I needed a hug.

That was good. It felt like a weight had been lifted off of my shoulders. I needed that.

But now I had another thought in my mind. 

I needed to tell you about what happened.

But this was a thought that I even took a moment to consider. We weren’t dating, and it’s not like I thought we were going to. But I still felt like I should tell you. You did see us fighting, after all.

I don’t know. My mind was clouded again, which is what happened even before I broke up with him. I wanted to end the confusion with him, not keep it up. 

Fuck.

But I would tell you later. Because Metallica was just starting their encore, and considering that I could hear the crowd even in the dressing room, I knew that it was going to be absolutely fucking insane.

I know that this is rushed right now. But honestly, so much was going on at this point in my life that I don’t even remember a lot of it.

I jogged to side stage to be able to watch your encore. It was like nothing I’d ever seen. You guys all looked possessed, possessed by the music. Your hair was all over the place, and you were in incredible in sync.

It didn’t look real.

At that point, I had maybe taken too many sips of the beer that we had backstage and had possibly gotten drunk and passed out. So I wasn’t even able to greet you. But when I woke up hours later, splayed out on one of the couches backstage, the crew was still packing everything up.

I was kind of annoyed that everyone left me backstage, and that I didn’t remember the end of your set. But I’m also glad that no one woke me up.

And of course, because I have such fucking good luck, when I woke up, disheveled as fuck, you were still backstage, looking through the fridge.

Fuck. I wanted to sink into the couch so you wouldn’t see me; I caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror and I shuddered. I looked terrible.

But of course, you turned around and saw me, and gave me a little wave. I straightened up, and you plopped down on the couch next to me.

“Hey,” you said. “Beer?”

You offered me one of the two cans you were holding. I took it, but reluctantly. I was sober now, but my head still hurt and the lights were too bright.

“Your set was really good,” I said as I placed the beer can on the floor. You were already here. I might as well make conversation. 

“Thanks. You’re right, that crowd is crazy. Our biggest crowd yet, for sure.”

“How do you even do it?” I blurted out abruptly. You turned and cocked your head. “Like...” I tried to justify myself. “I mean, you have so so many people there, all for you. They all idolize you. How do you not feel...Godlike?”

You chuckled softly and ran your hand through your hair. “I mean, James has more control of the crowd than me, so he probably feels more powerful. But you just have to ground yourself. I....” you hesitated. 

“I know that we’re successful. I know that we have a lot of really really dedicated, incredible fans. But I also have to realize that I wouldn’t be here without the fans and our producers and our managers and everyone on our team, and that though, yeah, we write and perform the music, there’s so many other things that other people do for us. So I mean, at first it does make you feel kinda full of yourself, that so many people are there for you. But I try not to let it get to my head. I just have to remember that we can always push ourselves harder and do better, and that even though they’re cheering for us, they’re also cheering for everyone else on our team.”

“Wow.” I stifled a burp. Cute, I know. “That’s really smart. Because I think once your ego gets too big, you can’t really go back. That’s really good.”

You leaned back and smiled. “Yeah.”

After a slightly awkward but short silence, you shifted and said, “Um... so are you okay?”

I narrowed my brows. “What?”

“You know, from last week.” You looked uncomfortable. But sincere.

“Oh,” I said quietly. I looked down and started poking my finger into a hole in the couch. “I’m okay. Um, Sid and I broke up. But I’m okay.”

You looked at the floor. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” I said quickly. “I was going to break up with him anyway. I’m fine.”

“That’s good to hear.”

I felt relieved that I told you, even though I really had no obligation to. But now you knew. Which was good.

Then, another thought entered my mind. One that I didn’t expect. I attempted to shove it down, but as the anxious feeling slowly built in my stomach, I realized that I had to ask you or I’d regret it.

“Um...how’s....Emily?” I said quietly. I didn’t know what answer I wanted to hear.

You hesitated, and then said. “We’re broken up too. I mean, we never dated, officially. But I called her a few weeks ago, and we both kinda decided to stop seeing each other, for now.”

I winced at the “for now.” But my spirits were also uplifted. Now, neither of us had anything holding us back. But at the time, I didn’t even think you were thinking about that.

“Oh,” I said excitedly. Too excitedly.

But you didn’t seem to notice, as you said, “I mean, we’re still friends, I guess. But we’re not involved.”

I nodded. “Yeah. I get it.”

Our conversation then shifted, and as we continued to talk about tour and music, my mind was still focused on what we had previously talked about. You were single. And so was I.

But I wasn’t going to suddenly kiss you or anything, especially at that moment. There were still some crew members backstage, and they hadn’t even glanced at us, probably recognizing that we wanted our privacy.

I did, however, have a feeling that something between us would eventually happen, now that we were both single and aware of the fact.

I didn’t, however, expect it to happen in the men’s bathroom of a fancy brunch restaurant in Moscow the next day.


	12. bathrooms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> please read the notes at the end they're important!!!

Okay, okay, so maybe our time in the bathroom wasn’t our first truly intimate moment. But I still swear by the fact that if that didn’t happen, our “real” moments never would’ve. 

Every moment, however, regardless of level of intimacy, felt real with you.

I wasn’t focused on intimacy at the beginning of the brunch, though. In fact, I wasn’t even there. 

I had overslept, and was now trying to get ready, find a cab, and get to the other side of Moscow in the span of an hour. Unlikely, I know. The lot was empty, for once, because literally everyone was at the brunch, so I was probably the last one there, with the exception of one security guard who would escort me.

I was wearing a black dress and my leather jacket. I didn’t want to be too fancy, but I still wanted to look good. This would be the first formal place in which I would see you without the weight of Sid or Emily, and I wanted to make a proper impression.

The restaurant was 30 minutes away. We got there in under 20, after I relentlessly begged the security guard to speed.

By the time I got there, brunch wasn’t served yet, thank god. I didn’t want to cause even more of a scene. 

I was immediately approached by Jordan when I entered the restaurant. I winced, expecting to be scolded, but he instead greeted me with a glass of champagne. Before I could even drink it, I was whisked away by our lighting guy to talk about the lighting we would want for the North American tour.

We didn’t even have a setlist yet. Oops.

But as we continued to talk briefly, my eyes scanned the room, partly looking for you but also looking at who was here. This was also a brunch to celebrate the album release, so I expected that you’d be busy. There were other girls this time, thank God. I guess we hadn’t seen the whole crew at the dinner in San Francisco. 

I still hadn’t seen any members of Metallica yet. But your manager was here. You guys must’ve been here.

I then spotted Doug across the room. I politely excused myself and headed towards him. I lightly placed my hand on his back, and he turned. He was talking to Andy and a girl, who I kind of recognized as being a member of our crew. 

“Hey!” He said, turning towards me. “Have you seen the appetizers? They’re fucking delicious.”

“No,” I laughed. “I just got here. I’m starving, actually.”

He pointed towards the food table. “Go get some food. We’ll talk after.”

That was brief. But the girl was pretty, so I get that he wanted me out of there so he could flirt.

I nodded, and walked towards the table. I was hungry.

As I waited in line to get some food, I placed my (nearly empty) glass of champagne on the table and bent down to fix the laces of my shoes; they had just come undone, and I knew that my clumsy ass would trip.

When I then straightened myself back up, I picked up my glass, and tilted my head back to get the last remaining drops. But then I saw a flash of pink in front of me, and I froze.

The girl in front of me. She had pink hair. I squinted my eyes, trying to see her face, and then suddenly gasped and staggered back.

That was the same girl who was giving Sid head.

My breath was caught in my throat. My body started to feel tingly, and my vision was slightly blurred. I started to lean on the table, and though I tried to place my hand there to catch myself, I slumped over. I could feel my heart racing, and I couldn’t breathe. It felt like every wall was closing in towards me, and I needed to escape but I couldn’t, I couldn’t move.

I thought I was over Sid. But then why was I freaking out?

I must’ve been louder than I thought, because she turned around and said, “Are you okay?”

But seeing her face head on made me even more upset. The image of Sid’s cock in her mouth flashed before my eyes, so I somehow managed to get myself up, and once I started walking, I bolted towards the bathroom. Tears were spilling out of my eyes, and I snapped my sunglasses onto my nose so that no one would see.

I was a rock star. It was acceptable to wear sunglasses indoors.

The bathroom, however, had an incredibly long line. Now fully crying, I could feel my mascara running into my eyes as I turned and made a beeline for the other bathroom. It was in an empty side of the room, which was good. No line.

I pushed open the doors, rushed to the sinks, bent over and started sobbing and coughing. 

I couldn’t breathe. 

Fucking Sid.

I managed to splash some water on my face, and gained a little more strength so that I was able to stand upright.

I looked in the mirror, and fuck. My face was splotchy and my eyes were red. Fuck. I couldn’t go back out looking like this. And I could only wear sunglasses inside for so long.

I slumped against the wall and slid down. I wasn’t crying as much, but I still rested my head in my hands. I didn’t know why I got so upset. It’s not like I was planning to still be with Sid after that day, anyway. 

But wanting to break up is justified. Cheating isn’t.

I guess it was the humiliation that really made me upset. The fact that he didn’t even give a fuck about me, he just wanted sex. Fuck you, Sid.

When I checked myself in the mirror again, my face was clearing up and my eyes weren’t as red. But I didn’t want to look like I was crying, so I stayed.

As I started to fix my hair in the mirror, I suddenly heard the door open. I jumped and cowered to the corner.

I swear to god if it was pink hair……

But it wasn’t pink hair. It wasn’t even a girl.

It was you.

“This is the girls bathroom,” I blurted out abruptly. Shit shit shit. I didn’t want you to see that I was crying. Shit. I turned so that my back was facing you.

You motioned towards the door, looking startled. “It’s unisex. And the other bathroom has too long of a line.”

I don’t think you noticed that I was crying. Good.

I sniffled, still not turning towards you.

“Are you okay?” you asked gently. I could hear you coming closer to me. I turned even more.

“I’m fine. Do you have to like, pee or something?”

“No, I just need to wash my hands. Can I do that?” you asked gently.

I just nodded silently and moved away from the sinks. When you were done washing your hands, you lightly placed your hands on my hips from behind.

“Taylor,” you said, gently turning me around so that I would face you. I crossed my arms, but begrudgingly stood so that our chests were facing each other. I was looking at the ground.

If this was anyone else, even Doug, I would’ve told him to go away so I could have more time alone. But something about you made me want you there. Fuck you.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, looking me straight in the face. Well, more like the forehead. But there was something about your puppy dog eyes burning into the top of my head that made me want to look up. And when we made eye contact, you inhaled a sharp intake of air. 

Shit. I immediately looked away. I didn’t think I would look that bad.

“No, look at me,” you cooed, placing your pointer finger under my chin and lifting my head up. When we made eye contact again, I saw the sincerity in your eyes. So I relaxed, a little.

When you took your hands off of my hips and face, I leaned back on the sinks and hoisted myself up. I swiveled around to look in the mirror. My face wasn’t splotchy, but my eyes were still a little red.

You hesitated, but then leaned back on the sinks, too. 

“If you want your alone time, I can leave,” you said sympathetically. But I feverishly shook my head.

I don’t know what it was about you, Kirk Hammett. But if you were here, I didn’t want to be alone.

You nodded, and muttered, “Good,” under your breath.

“Why are you staying here, though?” I asked, sniffling. 

“Because I care about you,” you said quickly and matter-of-factly. Too quickly.

You...cared about me? I mean, I cared about you too, of course. But you said it so nonchalantly, as if it was common knowledge.

When you saw the evident confusion in my eyes, you then looked down and-for the first time since I met you-you blushed.

But I thought it was cute, and I nudged you slightly before giving you a reassuring smile. 

“I don’t regret it,” I said abruptly.

You finally looked up. “Regret what?” you asked, cocking your head. I rubbed my eyes.

“At the club. What...we did. I don’t regret it.”

When you didn’t respond, I continued. 

“I know I said that I did. But I don’t. Sorry.”

Now, I expected a response. But you were still silent. You then turned so that you were facing me, you standing in front of me on the sinks. A playful gleam suddenly danced over your face.

“Is that so?” you said, a devilish look in your eye. 

I guess both of our flirtatious demeanors were back.

Fuck. I shifted, but I was feeling better, so I was in more of a flirtatious mood. 

I nodded. “Mhm. It felt good, actually.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh really?”

You then moved closer to me, so close that your pelvis was touching the sink countertop. By doing that, my legs had parted more and more until they were wide apart, with you standing in between them.

Fuck.

“So you’re saying that you liked when I did...this?” You asked teasingly. 

“Did wh-” I started to respond, but before I could finish, you hoisted me off of the sinks by the waist and flipped me around so that I was facing the mirror and my back was to you. 

I didn’t even realize what was going on until your hands gripped my waist, hard. You were pressed against me, hard, and your thumbs pressed into my back so that I would bend over.

I was bent over, kind of, and your hands lightly grazed the bottom of my dress. I reached back to grab your hand, and I was about to fucking shove it under my dress until I heard the sound of the door opening.

Fuck.

Your hands left my waist as you swiftly moved to the sinks, as if you were washing your hands. I snapped up so that whoever it was couldn’t see that I was fucking bent over.

Fuck.

We waited awkwardly as the person, whose face I didn’t even properly see, go to the bathroom, was their hands, then leave.

We sat in silence again. I still hadn’t processed what just happened. Why do we always have to get fucking interrupted?

One thing I will say though- I did like it. I didn’t feel objectified or taken advantage of by you. When I mentioned this moment to close friends later on, they all acted like you had forced me to do all of that, which wasn’t true- you were rough, but not forceful. I could have easily gotten out of your grip if I needed to, and if I told you to stop, you would’ve. I liked being treated like that by you, there was no manipulation or objectification by you.

“We should probably go back,” you said quietly, and I nodded. 

Ugh.

We were both annoyed, and a little embarrassed about being caught.

“You ever been to San Francisco other than on tour, Taylor?” you asked as we walked out.

“No. I never really traveled a lot when I was younger.”

I looked into your eyes. “Why?”

You shrugged. “Maybe you could come over during break.”

I laughed. “Yeah, sure.”

It’s not that I didn’t care or didn’t want to come over. Honestly, I thought you were saying that just to be nice. So I didn’t really take it seriously. 

After all, how could I expect that you’d call me, while I was at home in New York, telling me that you had booked a flight for me to come see you that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> important things:
> 
> -it should be obvious that this is a letter to kirk from taylor, but if not, i added 'dear kirk' in the beginning. there will be a part at the end of the book that is very important that connects to the fact that it was a letter.  
> -kirk and taylor moments coming soon i promise!!!! what's your ship name for them? taylor's last name is sherman. i personally like kaylor shermmet lol


	13. starlight

That wasn’t the first big thing to happen once I got home from tour, though. The second the cab dropped me off in front of my apartment, I didn’t go to Max Fish, my favorite bar, or enjoy the crisp October air of New York City. Instead, I rushed to my bed and fell asleep. I was asleep for nearly a full day until the ringing phone woke me up.

“What,” I rasped, turning over so I could grab a glass of water.

“Taylor? It’s Jordan. I’ve been trying to reach you, where were you?”

“Asleep, wh-”

“I’m meeting with Metallica’s team today. We’re talking about pyrotechnics. Do you care, or do you want me to handle it for you?”

“I’ll look at it tomorrow,” I groaned. 

I was about to hang up, until I brought the phone back to my ear and grumbled, “Thanks, Jordan.”

I then fell back into bed. But I wasn’t tired anymore, because I had been woken up and I had gotten nearly a fucking day of sleep.

We had one glorious month until the North American tour started, so I was seizing the opportunity of free time and planning to sleep.

My body wasn’t used to this relaxation yet. I was used to waking up early and not sleeping. Even on days we didn’t have shows there was still stuff to do. Now, I had nothing but free time, and it was fucking great.

A few hours later, when I had really gotten out of bed and showered, I flipped through the TV channels, a mug of coffee in my hand. I decided to flip to MTV- I hadn’t seen it in a while, and I always loved to discover new artists and see my favorites.

I caught the end of an old Van Halen video, and then the camera panned over a TV studio. I let out a happy sigh when I recognized the inside of the MTV Los Angeles studio. We had performed there multiple times in different points in our career. And as much as I love New York, I loved the Los Angeles studio more than the New York one.

The presenter appeared on screen, in front of an audience with a band behind him. One of the members looked vaguely familiar, but I had probably just seen them at a party or something. Hopefully this would be new music that I could listen to.

The presenter clasped his hands together. 

“Debuting their new song, “No Good,” from Chicago, Starlight!”

I narrowed my eyes. Starlight…. I recognized that name.

My jaw then dropped as I leaned back on the couch. 

Starlight. From Chicago. 

Their lead singer was Emily. Your Emily.

As they started to play their song, I lowered my hands from my face and rested my elbows on my knees, peering at the TV so I could get a better look.

I had only seen one picture of Emily, and it was low quality and on a small polaroid. But now I could see her close up, and in high quality.

She was pretty. A lot prettier than I thought. She had long, black hair that cascaded down her shoulders and back like a waterfall. Her eyes were huge, but in a pretty way- huge and a dark blue-gray. And she was curvy. She had nice boobs, and from what I could see when she turned, she had a good butt as well.

I self consciously ran my hands over my own backside. Fuck. 

I should be focusing on the music. But instead, I’m focusing on her fucking appearance solely because of you. God. 

I didn’t want to be studying her so much. I knew it wasn’t good to. But fuck, man. She was gorgeous. And you guys had just been together. And I wanted you. I’m not surprised you wanted her, she’s beautiful.

I had a lot to live up to. And I still didn’t know for sure if you thought of me in that way. 

But I wanted you. So of course I was going to feel insecure when the last person you were with was prettier than me.

The intro to Starlight’s song was like 3 minutes long, so I got lost in my own thoughts. But when the vocals came in, I snapped back into reality.

Emily’s voice was beautiful, AND she played guitar. Another female lead singer and guitar player? Fuck! Why is she so much better at everything than me?

It was low and soft, but also seducing and inviting. It was attracting and warm and nice to listen to. To contrast, my voice was low also, but loud, raspy, and growling. 

But at the same time, her music was soft and indie, kinda alt-rock. Mine was heavy metal. So I tried not to get too caught up in our voices.

She stared seductively into the camera as she sang, and she looked confident. But there was also a sense of innocence about her- a sense that was clouded by sensuality.

Her whole demeanor was mysterious, but alluding, and as they finished the song, I noticed that my eyes never left her. 

I can’t even say that it was only because of you.

As the presenter came back onstage, he asked them a few questions about their new album, and of fucking course Emily’s speaking voice was pretty also. It was low, but not as soft. She spoke cooly, and you could tell from her answers that she was a private person. And it all seemed so natural. With me, now I act naturally, but I had to train myself to come across as dark.

I was a private person also, but from how much I talked in interviews, you couldn’t tell. But she talked just enough, and I immediately thought back to how I was in interviews, and how much I rambled. You could tell she commanded attention without effort, with help from her looks and voice.

She was a fucking enigma. No wonder you wanted her; you probably chased after her like a dog.

Unlike myself, when I’m the one who’s so obviously wanting you. Ugh.

This girl was so…..

I was jealous. I was jealous that you wanted her, even if it was in the past.

The rest of the day, I was kinda in a daze. I was just thinking about Emily, and how you had her. How you wanted her. The picture of you guys. 

Fuck.

I wanted you.

When Doug came over the next night, I was reminded of Emily when he mentioned MTV.

I then took a sip of my beer, and took a breath as I said, “Hey, have you ever heard of the band Starlight?”

Doug gave me a look but then nodded. “Yeah. I spoke at a panel with their drummer. They’re chill.”

“Do you…” I hesitated. “Do you know anything about them?”

“Uhhh they’re from Chicago and female fronted. That’s all I know.”

I nodded as I peered into my beer can. I didn’t want to press too much. And besides, what really would he know?

Even though I saw Doug, the rest of my band mates, and even some of my friends from high school in the next few days, that feeling wouldn’t go away. It was like a knot in the middle of my stomach, a knot because of Emily.

I know you said that you guys were broken up. But everything was kinda nonchalant with you, and let’s say she did come back into your life- of course you’d choose her over me.

Ugh. 

It wasn’t until the next week that my hopes were lifted. I was lounging on the couch, watching The Addams Family reruns when the phone rang. I expected it to be Jordan, with some tour information, or one of my bandmates with new material. But when I answered the phone the voice was one that I recognized, but not right away.

“Hey, Taylor. How are you?”

I paused. I knew this voice….

I then gasped, and pressed the phone even closer to my ear. 

“Kirk?” I exclaimed, not caring that I sounded like a fangirl.

I heard laughter over the phone. “Yeah, Taylor. Hey.”

“Hey!” I couldn’t believe it. You were calling me. I missed you, but God knows I’d never make the first move and call you.

This also slightly diminished my worriness over Emily.

“Are you doing anything during your break? I know you have like a month off.”

“No,” I replied, cradling the phone. “Just catching up on sleep.”

“Lucky,” you sighed. “We have so much press for the album now, more than any other. I had more free time on tour than I have now.” You paused. “But we actually have a show later this week, in San Francisco. Just a hometown warm up show before the big tour.”

“Yeah, we were thinking of doing a hometown show in New York, but all the venues were booked by the time we had that idea.” I then hesitated, and said, “I wish I could come see you.” I then hesitated again, for even longer, took a breath, and said, “I miss you.”

When you didn’t immediately respond, I felt a wave of heat come over me. 

Why did I say that? I never would have said that; never would have wanted myself to look that vulnerable. What the fuck was wrong with me? Maybe I was too relieved.

Thankfully, I didn’t have to bask in humiliation for that long, because you admitted, “I miss you too.”

I blushed, but for a different reason now. Fuck you for making me feel like this.

But then you said something I didn’t expect.

“But Taylor, if you’re not doing anything, you should, um…” you paused. “You should come to San Francisco. You could stay here, if you want,” you said sheepishly.

I didn’t answer right away, mostly because I was shocked. I know that you mentioned staying with you when we were in Moscow, but I didn’t really focus on it because I thought you were just being friendly. But you meant it. You wanted me to come to San Francisco to see you...and stay with you. 

If I was told in 1986 that I would be invited to stay in Kirk Hammett’s house, I would’ve laughed, and then gone back home to try and figure out the solo in Disposable Heroes or something.

“I…” I paused, but then thought- what was I hesitating for? This was you. I wanted to see you. You obviously wanted more than a professional relationship, and I did also, so why did I pause? I want this.

“Yeah, I’d love to. Thanks, Kirk. Are you gonna be busy with the new album press though?” I was sure you could hear me smiling. Damn. 

“This week won’t be as heavy. We’ll have time together, Taylor, don’t worry.” I could hear you smiling also.

“I’ll look for a flight this week, and I’ll let you know,” I said, mentally making a note to call Jordan. In the contract with my management, we had to let them know when all of our personal flights were, and they’d pay for it. Definitely a nice perk. 

“Oh, don’t worry about that, Taylor. I booked a flight for you tonight. It gets in tomorrow morning. Do you think you could be ready? If not, I could reschedule, um…”

You sounded nervous. And for some reason, that helped ease my shock. 

“That’s great, that’s really great, Kirk, but my management needs to know in advance if I’m flying anywhere. This is like, the one thing they’re really strict about, they’ll be really mad if they find out I flew to San Francisco without telling them.”

“Oh, that’s the issue?” You perked up. “Don’t worry! I told Jordan about this when we were in Barcelona.”

“In...Barcelona?” I asked slowly. Fuck. That was at least three weeks ago. You and Jordan, you fuckers.

“So...we’re good?” You asked slowly. “Jordan knows, flight is in 8 hours, are….is it good, Taylor?”

There was something about you using my name that struck somewhere inside of me. I nodded rapidly, but then realizing that you couldn’t see me, whispered into the phone, “Yeah. We’re good.”

I could, once again, hear you smiling on the other end. “Great. See you tomorrow morning, Taylor.”

I had no time to be in shock after I hung up. I was leaving for San Francisco in 8 hours. I hadn’t unpacked from tour yet, so I have to sort through my bags and find what to wear. 

After sifting through my clothes, and running all over the city to grab what I needed, I hailed a cab to the airport. 

Only when I was in the cab did I realize that you never told me how long I would stay there for. But that didn’t concern me that much. 

In a few hours, I’d be seeing you. And that was better than any time limit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok listen kirk and taylor moments are coming really soon i promise!!! there's gonna be some soft moments coming up but more stuff will happen between them within the next few chapters, things are gonna pick up soon!!
> 
> also, i have less time to update now, but updates will always always be within two weeks of when i last updated, i'm not leaving just yet!!


	14. beach

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM SO SORRY FOR THE DELAY!! i’ve been a lot busier so i haven’t had time to write. I 100% plan on continuing this story, and updates will become more frequent in a few weeks, but for the next month or so, I won’t be able to update that much. please keep reading though because I have a lot planned for this story and I plan on writing until I finish!! enjoy this chapter!

On the plane to San Francisco, I fantasized about seeing you, more than I probably should’ve. When I got to the terminal, I expected to see you, arms outstretched. 

But then I remembered that you’re Kirk fucking Hammett. You don’t wait in public airports. 

You told me to call you once I landed, so after getting my bags, I found a payphone and dialed the number you had given me. I was exhausted. It was still dark, the sun hadn’t even risen yet, but I still called. A voice answered, but it wasn’t yours. It was your assistant (who knew you had an assistant???) He told me that your driver (also who knew you had a driver??) was going to pick me up and drive me to your house. He would hold up a sign for me, but it would just be my last name, Sherman. As if my presence was going to cause that much of a commotion. 

I felt bad, knowing that your assistant and driver were still awake because of me. But that feeling was soon overpowered by my excitement. 

But once I saw my name on a sign at pickup, I noticed some stares. Maybe I was recognizable. 

The anxiety hit me once I was on my way to your house. I was seeing you, now. I quickly pulled out a compact mirror and checked myself. I didn’t look too bad, which was definitely a feat to celebrate, especially since I took a red eye, so it was fucking 5 am San Francisco time. I was tired and jet lagged, but I managed to stay awake in the car. 

We finally pulled up to your house, and I was too nervous to even notice how beautiful it was. It was on the ocean, so I was chilly as soon as I stepped out of the car. I even pressed a $100 bill into the drivers hand, because that’s how nervous I was.

When I get nervous, I overpay. It’s not a good habit, I know.

I braced myself as I knocked on your door. I wondered if you were awake, but when the door was answered by a housekeeper, I was told that you weren’t home.

“Why?” I asked, as I was ushered up the steps into a guest bedroom (which was at least double the size of my bedroom in New York, by the way). 

The housekeeper just said that after you called me, you immediately went out to do press, and hadn’t come back. But when she saw my worried face, she assured me that it was normal- you had mentioned crashing at James’s, and you’d be back soon. She told me I should just sleep.

As I put my bag down and started to settle in, I was confused, and annoyed that you weren’t here. But I was too tired to complain.

I fell asleep before my head hit the plush, satin pillow.

It must’ve been at least noon when I woke up. That’s why I didn’t mind that it was the noise of the vacuum cleaner that woke me up. When I made eye contact with the housekeeper in the hall, she gasped, and immediately apologized for waking me up. I assured her that it was fine, but before I could even finish my sentence, she told me that you were downstairs.

“Fuck, don’t tell him I’m up,” I pleaded to her, as I jumped out of the bed and ran to the mirror. I didn’t want to look like I woke up with a full face of makeup, so I just put on some concealer and mascara, and swapped out my sweatpants for leggings. 

This whole situation was kind of peculiar, to be honest. Me, being let into and sleeping in your house when you weren’t even here

But whatever. You’re here now.

I started at myself in the mirror for a minute before heading downstairs. My heart was pounding. 

I was almost too scared to go. But I convinced myself to anyway, and carefully headed down the steps.

Now, I was able to fully marvel at how beautiful your house was. What the fuck. 

When I got to the bottom of the stairs, I could see you, through the doorway. You were sitting at the table, drinking coffee and reading a newspaper. You were wearing jeans and a gray t-shirt, and your hair was wet. You must’ve just showered.

You must’ve not noticed that I was there, because you only looked up when I let out a small gasp. Your face broke out into a grin when we made eye contact, and you stood up and headed over to me with outstretched arms.

“Taylor,” you smiled, pulling me into a hug. “It’s good to see you,” you mused into my hair.

“You too,” I smiled, lightly running my fingers through your hair.

“So how are you? How was your flight?” 

“Good, it was good,” I nodded, unsure of what to do with myself. You must’ve detected that, because your eyes went wide. 

“Shit!” you exclaimed, rushing into the kitchen. “Do you want anything?”

Before I could even answer, you had pulled out a plate of eggs and toast. “This alright?”

“Yeah,” I nodded, looking into your eyes. “Thank you.”

I grabbed a mug of coffee, and we headed back over to the table. The reason I was acting so weird was because of how shocked I still was. I was having breakfast, in Kirk Hammett’s house, with Kirk Hammett. Wow. 

“How’s press?” I asked, taking a bite of toast.

“There’s a lot,” you sighed. “Literally, the few minutes I called you yesterday was my first slot of free time since we got back from tour; we had an interview the night we got back from Moscow and it hasn't stopped. There’s so much press for this album, more than usual. This is the actually the first time I’ve been home, other than the day we got back from Moscow. James lives closer downtown, and we’ve been in LA a bunch for more press, so we’ve been staying at Jason’s place there.”

I immediately felt bad. You had no free time, and the rare free time you had you chose to spend with me? 

You must’ve seen the look on my face, because you then said, “But I don’t like being alone. Even on free time. I’m really happy you’re here, Taylor.”

We made eye contact, and I felt a sudden urge to kiss you. But before I could, you looked down, and then said, “Press is slowing down though. I do have some stuff these next few days, but not a lot. So all the time not doing press is going to be spent with you, Taylor, don’t worry.”

I blushed, slightly. After telling me that you were gonna “show me something special” in half an hour, I rushed upstairs, quickly changed into black cutoffs and a red Queen shirt, and headed outside.   
Wherever we were going was only a 15 minute walk, so we decided to enjoy the breeze of the San Francisco coast. You changed into black jeans and a long sleeve White Zombie shirt, and you were holding a bag. You guided me to a woodsy area, saying that we’d walk through there so we could be alone. I know that you also said that so you wouldn’t be recognized. But I didn’t really want you to be recognized either.

I felt like I was close enough with you at this point that I didn’t think of you as Kirk from Metallica as much anymore.

You were Kirk, my friend. 

And maybe more.

“This is…” I trailed off.

“Beautiful? I know.” You brushed a curl out of your face. “I always wanted to live by the ocean. Love California, hate the desert.”

“It’s gorgeous.” I marveled at the coastline, which came into appearance after walking through a small trail. “I love New York, and I always will, but there’s something about the natural beauty that’s so…”

I saw you crack a smile as I was left speechless by the coastline. 

“And we haven’t even seen the best part yet.” You reached for my hand, but before taking it, looked up at me, as if you were asking for permission. I smiled and nodded, and you smiled in response as you took my hand.

Your rings felt cold against my skin as you abruptly turned and walked down a small slope. 

Now I could really see the beach. My eyes grew wide as I admired the beauty of the San Francisco beach. Wow.

“Come on,” you lightly pulled me forward. “There’s something I want you to see.”

We walked around a rocky bend, and finally, I was able to see why you wanted me to come with you. 

“God, Kirk,” I laughed as I staggered back, running a hand through my hair. 

You gave a cheeky grin. “I just wanted to give you the true tourist experience, Taylor.”

I walked closer to the water to get a clearer view. In the distance, behind the fog, was the Golden Gate Bridge.

“You ever drive across it?” I asked, as I tried to peer through the fog.

“All the time. But it’s frustrating, because it’s filled half with commuters and half tourists,” you sighed.

I turned to look at you. “Thank you for bringing me here. I love it.”

“Of course. Golden Gate Bridge is a San Fran staple. You gotta see it.”

We spent the next few hours roaming around the beach, and we even had a mini picnic, filled with cheese, crackers, and wine. You explained that this was a private beach, and only those who lived in your community were able to go. But aside from seeing a women jogging along the water, and a man walking his dog, we were basically alone.

We laid down on the blanket, side by side, overstuffed on cheese and crackers and slightly tipsy. The sun had started to go down, so the scarlet bridge was illuminated by the deep orange sunset. It was quiet, the only sounds being the waves lapping against the shore. 

“Thanks for letting me stay with you,” I remarked, adjusting my position so that I was parallel to you. “I love it here, it’s so nice.”

“Of course. I didn’t wanna go a month without seeing you.”

“I didn’t want to either.”

We sat in comfortable silence again, until you coughed a little, and said, “So, I heard you covered Megadeth at the festival in France.”

I quickly sat up. “How’d you know that?”

“I have my ways.”

My eyes went wide as I looked out into the ocean. I know that there was some Megadeth/Metallica beef, particularly with Dave and James, you, and Lars. But would you actually be mad that we covered it? It’s not like you were the one who fired him. 

“Mustaine isn’t bad. But I’m surprised that you’d pick Megadeth over Metallica. I thought I meant more to you than that, Taylor.”

My heart dropped. But then I heard you quietly laughing to yourself, and saw a sparkle in your eye. 

You fucker. But if you wanted to play, I could do it right back.

“Mustaine does have some pretty solid riffs, though. Peace Sells is a good album. Arguably the best metal album of that year.”

Your eyes darkened. Master of Puppets was released the same year as Peace Sells, so I knew that would rile you up. But that fucked up part of me liked provoking you, and I got that enviable rare surge of confidence. I crawled over to you, and then practically sat in your lap, straddling your waist. I was on all fours, and my face was slowly moving closer to yours. 

I don’t know where this surge of seducing confidence came from. But I liked it, and I think you did too, as you bit your lip while lightly placing a hand on my waist. 

“You prefer Peace Sells over Puppets then?” you asked, removing your hand from my waist to prop yourself up on your elbows. 

I shook my head. “Of course not.” I then brought my lips to your ear, and whispered, “Why do you think I said arguably?”

“Taylor…” you said softly, and before I could process it, you brought your hand to the back of my head and started to lean in. I started to lean in too, finally, fucking finally about to kiss you when we were interrupted by flashlights.

It was dark, but not too dark- the sun had just set. But when three people appeared on top of the hill, shining their lights down at us, it contrasted so much with the darkness that I squinted and shielded my eyes with my hands, trying to see who it was as I crawled off of you. 

Once the three men came up to us, I noticed that they were wearing ranger uniforms. I quickly looked over to you and scrambled up, but you just sighed and pulled a wallet out of your back pocket. 

You then looked up at the rangers. “Permit checks?” They nodded, looking surprised. You sighed, pulled an ID out of your wallet, and handed it to the rangers. They crowded around, peering at the ID, then handed it back to you. 

One of them gestured towards the ocean. “The tides are high. Be safe tonight, Mr. Hammett.”

“Will do,” you muttered, shoving your wallet back into your pocket. 

Once they were out of earshot, you groaned and turned over. 

“Fuck, sorry about that,” you mumbled. We started to gather the blanket and wine together. “People have been sneaking on the beach, and it's just supposed to be for people who live in the community. Our taxes go towards the upkeep of the beach, but now that people were sneaking onto it, the people here complained and now there’s regular permit checks. I don’t really care, it’s just,” you sighed and leaned your head back while making eye contact with me. “I wish they didn’t interrupt us.”

I blushed, and said, “Yeah. Me too.”

We finished the bottle of wine on the way back, and by the time we got to your house, we could barely walk. We stumbled inside, leaning on each other and laughing, the smell of our breaths thick with alcohol.

“Your room,” you gestured towards the guest room, once we somehow managed to get up the steps. 

But you must’ve seen the look in my eyes, because you then said, “Or...not.”

You grabbed my hand and led me down the hall, pushed open two beautiful white doors, and entered your bedroom. It was roomy but minimal, with a king sized bed in the middle, and two guitars resting against the window seat. 

I walked over to the bed and and lightly touched the smooth blanket. “It’s so big,” I said softly. “And you sleep here by yourself?” You didn’t answer, but instead took your shirt off. I took a breath, surprised that this was happening so quickly, but then calmed down once you put a T- shirt on. 

I might’ve been too drunk. 

You reached under the bed and grabbed another bottle of wine. You then handed me an oversized blue Camp Crystal Lake T-shirt 

“You can wear this,” you said, climbing into bed. I was nervous for a second- did I do something wrong? But you patted the bed and said, “C'mon, Taylor. It gets lonely here.”

I felt tingles run throughout my body, and I felt all warm. But I quickly pulled my shirt off, and before your eyes could even roam my body, pulled the T-shirt on. I playfully stuck my tongue out at you as I pulled down the blanket and crawled into bed. You passed me the bottle of wine, and I took it, even though I was fucking drunk already. 

You put on a jazz CD, and I smirked, but didn’t mind. It was calming. Solidarity at its finest.

I leaned back into the pillows as our legs brushed together. I smiled at you, and then passed you the bottle of wine.

We were drunk, and in bed together. 

There was nothing that could interrupt us now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for 1000 hits!!


	15. flirt

I bet you could imagine my frustration when I woke up fully clothed. I expected us to have sex. But I must’ve passed out before we could do anything.

Fuck.

This happened for the next few days. The night before, we were going to kiss, we really were, until your car started beeping and you ran outside to make sure it wasn’t being broken into. By the time you got back, I had passed out. But I still slept in your bed. 

This morning, when I checked, you weren’t even in bed with me. When I rolled over to see if you were up, you were gone, instead leaving a note on your pillow. I groaned, rubbed my eyes, and picked it up.

Had to do a few interviews. Be back in 2 hours. -Kirk

I sighed, and crawled out of bed. I didn’t know when you left, but you’d probably be back soon. Your hometown show was today, and even though I was going to it, I know that I wouldn’t have much time to talk to you. I might as well get ready now, so I could spend your little free time with you. 

I felt apprehensive about going downstairs. But you had told me last night that I’m free to go wherever I wanted in the house and eat whatever I wanted, so I hesitantly went downstairs and made myself coffee.

Thankfully, you were back within half an hour. You gave me a wave as you rushed through the door, and said you were just gonna take a quick shower. 

I sat, staring blankly into my coffee. Sometimes you gave me all the time in the world. Other times, you acted like I wasn’t that important to you. 

I reached to my right hand to twirl my ring around my finger, an act I only did when I was nervous, but when I didn’t feel a ring there, my heart dropped. I then realized that I must’ve left it in your room last night.

I sighed and walked back up to your room. I just wanted to find it now, or I knew I’d forget it. 

In your room, I smoothed out your sheets to feel for the ring. It must’ve fallen under your bed. 

I bent down and reached my hand underneath, and to my surprise, I felt the ring underneath my fingers. I triumphantly slid it onto my finger, and was about to get out of your room, until I stood up, turned around, and was face to face with you, fresh out of the shower.

You had a towel on, thank god, but that was it. Your chest was damp, tan, and bare, with a tattoo in a rainbow shape on your stomach. 

“Shit,” I muttered, my eyes growing wide. I froze. But you didn’t seem to notice or care, because when you made eye contact with me, you just gave me a sly smile. You liked that my eyes were roaming your body, you liked that I saw your chest, and that I got so flustered by it. 

See, it’s just a chest. It’s not like I’ve never seen a guy naked before, or even shirtless, of course not. But something with you made it seem so taboo, like seeing you shirtless was equivalent to seeing your dick.

But I also think I was too focused on having sex with you that I wasn’t able to think properly.

I quickly escorted myself out of your room, but before I could even settle down back into mine, you shouted into mine.

“Ready to go?” 

“Yeah,” I exclaimed, startled, and headed down the stairs. You were at the bottom.

“Hey,” you hugged me, taking me by surprise. “I haven’t really seen you today.”

I hesitated, but quickly hugged you back.

When you pulled away, you gently took my hand and led me outside to your Rolls Royce. 

“I wanna take you around. Come.”

I giggled as I slid into your car. I had never really been around San Francisco, and I was more than excited to be seeing the city with you.

When we got back to your house, we were both overstuffed on eggs and toast, but I swear that we would’ve had sex if you didn’t have to get to your show in an hour and if we had gone straight home, instead of to the damn coffee shop. We were flirting the whole time at the restaurant; verbally, with playful yet flirtatious jabs at each other, and physically, with you lightly brushing against my thigh more than a few times. 

But nothing more than that. 

We couldn’t, we were in public, and a few people had come up to you asking for an autograph. Surprisingly, a few people came up to me as well. It was obvious that many eyes were on us, and as much as we may have wanted to sneak off to make out in the bathroom, we couldn’t have- unless we wanted the tabloids to know about it.

Things were slightly tense between us though, to my disappointment. We went to get coffee later, and the barista, obviously not recognizing you or our body language, hit on me numerous times. I didn’t flirt back, but I didn’t reject him, and I felt your eyes burning into my head when I turned to smile at him. I saw, out of the corner of my eye, you purse your lips when our hands brushed as he was giving me my drink. It wasn’t that big of a deal, but we were flirting a little. I didn’t even mean to do it to make you jealous- it just happened. You were flirting with a fan who recognized you at the restaurant, but I didn’t get visibly mad. It was just light conversation, nothing more. 

After we got our coffees, we headed out towards your car. 

That’s when we went downhill. 

“Did you know him?” you asked quietly, after a few moments of sitting in silence once you started to drive. 

“Know who?” I asked, puzzled. I didn’t really talk to anyone other than you.

“The barista,” you said through slightly gritted teeth. When I looked over at your hands gripping the steering wheel, I saw that your knuckles were white. 

I cocked my head. Why would you ask if I knew the barista or not? Being friendly doesn’t mean that we know each other. 

“No, uh, why?” I asked, perplexed. 

“Well, he seemed comfortable enough with you to flirt with you.” 

You said that harshly, and I winced. But it was just being a little friendly, not flirting. Why were you even bringing it up? 

“He…” I trailed off. I was too confused that I couldn’t think straight. “He wasn’t flirting with me,” I said softly. As soon as those words left my lips, I felt a sudden rage boil up inside of me. I had just spent a whole relationship being with a guy who was controlling, I wasn’t going to tolerate it again, I wasn’t. 

Even if it was for you.

“Kirk, he wasn’t flirting with me, and if he was, I wasn’t flirting back,” I snapped. “You were literally flirting with that fan that asked for your autograph in the restaurant, and I’m not freaking out. Chill.”

“What?” you sputtered, pushing a curl out of your face. “I wasn’t flirting with her.”

“Yeah, like telling her you can’t wait to see her at your show then wrapping your arm around her ass isn’t flirting,” I snapped back. “But either way, I don’t give a fuck. You have to calm down; you’re not my boyfriend.”

I hated that fight, I hated that we were fighting. Looking back on it, I recognize that I needed to calm down. Even though you shouldn’t have brought it up, I exploded on you. 

And now I regret it.

Any chance for sex, even hate sex, was slim. We were gonna head over to the arena right after you changed. That meant a long, awkward car ride.

When you got back downstairs, you brushed past me to go back outside without saying a word. I frowned, but tentatively followed you outside and got in the car. I felt bad now, I was annoyed that you were being so possessive before, but I shouldn't have snapped at you. You were hosting me in your home for free. I shouldn’t have snapped, regardless of how irrational I thought you were being.

If only I knew that that wasn’t you being irrational. That was you being you.

But the car ride was awkwardly silent, and I hated it, I hated that the tension in the air was so thick that I could literally cut it with a knife. I liked you, a lot. I didn’t want to fight. 

I didn’t think you were mad that we were flirting. You were annoyed that I snapped at you.

“I’m sorry,” I blurted out, and for once not hating my instincts. You turned to me, slightly, and before you could say anything, I said again, “I’m sorry, Kirk. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“It’s fine, Taylor,” you sighed. “Sorry for being possessive. It’s not like you’re my girlfriend.”

“I wish I was,” I thought, but then grew red after noticing that I said it under my breath.

“It’s just…” you hesitated. “I like you, Taylor. I guess I was just jealous. I’m sorry.”

I didn’t even process what you just said, but I immediately responded with, “You...like me?”

“Why else would I invite you to my house, let you sleep in my bed, arrange to go to London with you? Of course I like you.” You pulled up to the arena and parked, which gave me time to process what you had said. You liked me.

“I like you too, Kirk,” I said softly, then looked up into your eyes. We both smiled.

“And it’s so frustrating that we kept getting interrupted,” you complained as we got out the car and headed towards the entrance. I was so happy I was practically skipping. Who cares that you were possessive before? You liked me!!

Looking back, I know I was naive. But once again: I was young, and it was the 90s.

“I know,” I groaned. “It should not be this hard.”

You gave me a playful side eye, and grinned. Once we got in the venue, you were immediately whisked away for soundcheck, and I began to roam around backstage. I also allowed my thoughts to wander. Finally, finally we both know that we like each other. We were gonna have sex on this trip, I’m sure of it.

I recognized some crew members from the European tour, and after catching up, I watched quietly as they adjusted the lighting and corrected the sound board. I had always been interested in the behind the scenes of tour, unfortunately, when it’s our tour, I don’t have time to look at what other people are doing. But now, I had all the free time in the world. 

Your show went by quick. I was finally able to watch the whole thing, from the light show in the beginning to the final bow at the end. You, of course, looked and were amazing. 

Once the show ended, I decided to wait for you right down the stage. It was to greet you immediately, yes, but I also wanted to see James and your other band mates.

“Taylor!,” you exclaimed as you jogged down the stairs, and to my surprise, you engulfed me in a sweaty hug. 

“Taylor’s here?” I heard a voice boom. I looked up from your shoulder and saw James, bounding over. 

“Oh no-“ Before I could say anything else, James joined the hug, making me even sweatier than I was. 

Five years ago, I would’ve loved to even get a glimpse of Metallica. Now, I was being hugged by half of them, and one of them liked me. How fucking lucky was I.

“Hey!” James said as we all pulled away.

“Ugh, I’m all sweaty now. Thanks James.”

“The least I can do,” James shrugged, a smirk plastered on his face. 

I missed James. And Lars, and Jason, and after talking to all of them while you did some press, we met up near your dressing room. 

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

It was from that one fucking “hey,” that I knew, I fucking knew we were gonna have sex tonight. I could feel it.

We walked out to your car, brushing against each other. I wanted you, and for the first time, I could tell you wanted me too.

As you started to drive, I was thinking of something to say, something to break the silence, until you said, “I wish we weren’t interrupted at the beach.”

Normally, I would have blushed, but I was expecting this and I wanted this and you so bad that I didn’t get all shy. Instead, I smirked, and said, “Why?”

I saw the look you gave me out of the corner of your eye, and that only fueled me more. I leaned back onto the seat so that my short red skirt would ride up even more. I saw you quickly look down at my legs, before gripping the wheel and clenching your jaw, looking straight ahead. 

You then look a breath, and through gritted teeth, said, “I wanted to give you what you want, Taylor.”

Before I could respond, however, you loudly cursed as you made a sharp turn. You turned the wheel all the way to the right, and then came to an abrupt stop. 

“That fucking asshole cut me off, who does he think he is?” You exploded, breathing hard. “Are you okay?” You exclaimed, turning to look at me.

“I’m fine,” I grumbled. I wasn’t physically hurt. But I was annoyed that our conversation got interrupted, AGAIN.

The car ride was quiet on the way back, but only after I assured you that I was fine and I wasn’t mad. Once we got back to your house, we headed up the stairs, and I turned right to go to my room.

“You’re gonna sleep in your bed?” I turned to see you waiting outside your bedroom door. I didn’t expect you to care that I was sleeping in my own bed tonight. But you obviously did.

“I don’t want to,” I said softly.

We gathered in your bed, and you flicked on the TV. A black and white movie was playing, and we watched in silence, until you exclaimed out of the blue, “I have no fucking idea what’s going on.”

I let out a burst of laughter, which I didn’t mean to do. But you soon joined in, and we rejoiced over not understanding the movie.

“Right?” I said, through laughter. “I thought he was having an affair with the blonde one. Why is she meeting his wife?”

We both continued to laugh, and caught each others eye as our laughing ceased. I shifted.

“So...when you said you wanted to give me what I wanted…”

“Yeah, what about it Taylor,” you cooed, leaning your chin on your hands. You knew, you fucking knew. You moved closer to me so that our legs touched. 

“Well…” I looked up at you through my eyelashes. “What did you think I wanted?”

I could hear both of our breaths get heavier. You let out a breath, then leaned closer to me. You cupped your hand around my jaw, and turned my head down so that my neck was exposed. 

“I think you wanted to get fucked, Taylor,” you whispered in my ear. I could feel your hot breath on my neck, and the familiar smell of soap and cinnamon, one that I hadn’t smelt in a while, wafted up my nose. I could feel my cheeks get hot. I could also feel the temperature increasing between my legs, you fucker.

“You think?” I asked softly, gently placing my hand on your own. 

Your eyes roamed my body as you placed a hand on my hip. We were parallel to each other, lying down but leaning on the pillows, and you pulled me closer to you. 

“I hope I’m right,” you mused as you moved your hand from my hip to run up and down my thigh. 

I felt hot, and I felt seductive, and I just wanted you and your body.

But we were just flirting right now, and though you seemed, and you definitely were, confident and experienced in bed, you still seemed hesitant if you should continue. 

“Don’t worry, Kirk.” I brushed my hair out of my face, looked up at while batting my eyes, and said, “You are.”

I gave you a small nod, and that gave you the confirmation you needed. You moved your hand to the inside of my thigh, and began gently running your hand up and down. Using your free hand, you once again cupped my jaw, and brought your face closer to mine.

No interruptions. For sure this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> good moments happening soon x


	16. finally

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! this took literally two months i'm so sorry i've honestly been so busy but i'm still writing! this chapter is a good one, enjoy!

When I woke up the next morning, I felt an immediate sense of panic. I knew I was going to be alone, I knew I was going to lean over and feel how big the empty bed was. 

But when I reached over and felt you sleeping, instead of the usual empty bed, the panic immediately went away, and was replaced with an unusual feeling of comfort.

I happily sighed and laid back. I was content. 

I was only reminded of the previous night, however, when I felt the familiar feeling of soreness between my legs. That only made me even happier, as I could now finally say that we did it.

Finally.

I thought back to last night. That anticipating feeling I felt when you were stroking my thigh, leaning closer to me. 

We were both breathing heavily, though all you were doing was touching my leg. I think we were so focused on making our one free moment worth it that we both got a little too nervous about it. 

But all my worries rushed away when your hands danced along my waistband, and slowly pulled my pants down as I breathed even more heavily. 

I once again gave you a little nod, as to allow you entry past my panties. But you waited, and while softly rubbing my panties, you straddled over me, moved your hand from my leg to my face, leaned in, and softly kissed me.

I was so overcome with emotion at this point to even do anything other than kiss you back. Here I was, making out with my fucking idol in my panties, ecstatic that were were finally kissing and needy for more.

I wrapped my other arm around your neck and continued to kiss you, reaching between your legs to your already hard bulge. I tried to unbutton your jeans with one hand, but eventually just used both of my hands as we continued to kiss. Before I could fully unzip them, however, you started to kiss my neck and trail down my body, lifting up my shirt for me to take off as you made your way closer and closer to my panties. 

You used your thumb to rub my already-wet sex and I moaned, “Just do it,” as I pushed my panties down my legs for you. When you incredulously looked up at me, you gave me an animalistic look before diving down between my thighs.

“Fuck,” I moaned as your tongue began to lap at my clit. We were both hungry for it, and I pushed your head down as your tongue went even deeper in me. 

It didn’t take long for me to cum, and as soon as you entered two fingers, I felt my walls tighten as I released into your mouth. You gave me kisses up and down my thighs, and when you got back up to me, we both just grinned.

It was real. We were finally doing it.

Still out of breath, I finished unzipping your pants and, with your help, pulled them down your legs.

You leaned over you, grabbed my neck, and whispered, “Get on your knees.”

I obeyed, scrambling off of the bed. I was always pretty submissive in bed, but something about you made me want to serve you.

And now, I could really see how kinky you really were - always in the need for control.

By the time I got on my knees, your cock was already protruding from the open zipper in your jeans. You were stroking it, though you were already hard.

I didn’t even waste time in teasing you. I nearly fucking swallowed your cock, deep throating it as much as you can. You grabbed a fistful of my hair and pulled it towards you so my mouth was almost on your fucking balls. I bobbed up and down, nearly choking but restraining from gagging. 

“Fuck, Taylor,” you moaned as I swirled my tongue around the tip. 

I wrapped my hand around the rest of your dick and jerked you off. When you were about to cum, I leaned my head back and stuck my tongue out so it would all squirt onto my tongue.

“God damn Taylor,” you said knowingly once I wiped my lips and stood between your legs to kiss you. We kissed, passionately, before leaning back onto the bed, both of us still panting.

We were both so happy that we were finally doing this. I could tell. But we also wanted to take it slow. 

You crawled on top of me again and kissed up and down my body. We were both naked at this point, and your cock was erect and poking my body. I wanted it, you wanted it, and not to be fucking cliche but I felt like I was fucking aching for you. You didn’t break eye contact as you grabbed a condom from the night table, ripped it open, and slid it on. 

You ran your hands over my thighs and spread my legs apart. You then kissed my neck, and said, “Do you want this, Taylor?”

I looked up at you, honestly kind of annoyed. Of course I fucking want it. But then I saw that familiar devilish look in your eye, and I reached up to pull your face closer to mine. We kissed, and then pulled away, I nodded and breathily let out a “Yes.”

You quickly nodded in return and gave me another soft kiss on my neck, before positioning your cock at my entrance. You slightly pushed in the tip, and even that small fucking motion made me moan. 

Fuck you.

“Fucking-” I sat up and tried to grab at your cock, tried to fully push it inside of me.

You just chuckled and lightly blocked my hand. 

“Patience, baby,” you muttered as you once again positioned your cock in front of my entrance. You kissed me, again, before running your hands along my shoulders and then finally, fucking finally, sliding into me. 

I grabbed at your back, trying to get you in even deeper. You let out a low moan as you started to push in and out of me, getting faster and faster with each thrust. Your thighs pounded against mine as you brought your hand up to my throat and wrapped your hand around it.

“Please,” I moaned, lightly grasping at your hair. You immediately stopped, pulled out, and burrowed your face next to my ear. 

“Wh-?” I sat up, confused as to why you stopped. 

“Please?” you teased, reiterating my question and lightly running your tip along my entrance.

Fuck. 

“Please,” I moaned breathily, practically feeling myself aching, aching for you. 

“Say it,” you hissed, trailing your tongue up my neck. 

“Please fuck me,” I whimpered, practically crying at this point. “Please fuck me, please.”

You let out a low, triumphant laugh. 

“Good girl,” you breathed, giving me a kiss at the crease of my neck and jaw. Without warning, you pushed your cock back in me, gripped both of my legs, and thrust in and out, in and out, until I was practically crying for more. When I felt myself about to cum, I did, all over you.

You immedietly pulled out, grabbed me by the hair, and pushed your cock into my mouth, cumming down my throat in the process. We kissed again, even more rough and passionate than before, until we both flopped down on the bed next to each other, panting hard.

“I-” I couldn’t even finish my sentence - we erupted into giddy laughter, smiling widely at each other, still fucking naked and wet but so incredibly happy that we finally, fucking finally, did what we’d been trying to do basically since we met. 

Neither of us were tired then, so we both just silently cuddled with each other until we both fell asleep. 

I have to say that lying in your arms, your thumb slowly stroking my shoulder was one of the most comfortable places I had been in in a while. I felt you get up to go to the bathroom when you must’ve thought I was asleep, and I fell asleep before you could get back.

And now, I was awake. 

But you were still asleep, and I was waiting for you to get up so we could shower together, something you promised to me last night as we were lying together. 

And we must’ve have some sort of mental connection because just as I decided to just get up and shower by myself, you rolled over.

“Good morning,” you said groggily, rubbing your eyes. 

I turned over, smiling. 

“Hi,” I said, leaning over to kiss you. You cupped my face with your hands, and when we pulled away from kissing, we were both smiling.

You gave me a soft kiss on my shoulder, and rolled out of bed,

“I’m gonna shower,” you said, in that beautiful, raspy, just woke up voice. “Care to join?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so YEAH that was wild. i know this chapter is kinda short compared to my other ones (more than 1000 words less) but i wanted to only make this chapter about sex to highlight it and add most of the aftermath in another chapter. but i hope you enjoyed!! please please comment i love seeing what people have to say. sorry about the wait and next chapter coming soon!


	17. mentality

Not to be a soft bitch, but those last few days with you were probably my happiest days in a while, with the exception of days on tour. 

We spent the rest of our time together going to the beach, drinking wine, going to a few local shows and parties, and of course, having sex. Sex with you… I couldn’t even describe it. You were better than any other person I’ve slept with, and not to talk myself up, but I’ve had my pick of people I’ve had sex with.

You were the perfect balance of everything relating to sex - you were sensual, but rough. You were kinky and dominating, but also let me have my control. Everything about you in terms of sex was perfect and unbeatable, and when I boarded my plane to go home, I had to admit I was going to miss the routine of fucking multiple times a day.

On the way home, I couldn’t even sleep, though I was exhausted, because I couldn’t get you out of my damn fucking mind. 

You made me feel all giddy and happy and wanted and I didn’t like that feeling, especially when I had only broken up with Sid less than a month ago.

I didn’t even want to think of Sid while I was there, but you encouraged me to, asking questions about him while I prompted you about Emily. I recalled a conversation we had a few days prior, in which we talked about them literally right after having sex.

Once you came, you flopped down on the bed next to me, my body and your cock still wet. 

We laid there in silence, until you suddenly sat up, and said, “Get dressed. I wanna take you somewhere.”

I did, of course, and I followed you out the door as you held my hand and led me down that same trail we went down the other day. But instead, we walked up a hill instead of down one, and you led me to the most beautiful view I had ever seen.

There was a small cliff, with a bench covered in flowers and grass that had grown through. We were overlooking the ocean, but could see the beach below dotted in palm trees. The sun was still shining through the clouds, but it was setting, so the sky was splashed with beautiful streaks of pink and orange. 

“I…” I was at a loss for words. It was fucking ethereal. 

You just lightly tugged at my hand to come sit down on the bench with you. You pulled out a bottle of wine from your jacket and guided me to the bench, placing your arms around my waist. 

We spent the next few hours talking about nearly everything - touring, mental health, sex, drugs, our bandmates, our fucking hopes and dreams and nearly everything in between.

I say nearly, however, because there was one fucking elephant in the room that we didn’t address - Sid and Emily. 

I wanted to ask you, but I didn’t really want to talk about Sid and I also didn’t want to know. What if you were talking to Emily again?

We both breathed in silence until out of the blue, you asked, “Do you still talk to Sid?”

I bristled, but I knew that it was going to be brought up eventually.

“Um, no,” I answered shortly. I honestly hadn’t talked to Sid since that night, but I had been kind of using Doug as a messenger as if we were fucking middle schoolers who had a crush on each other. 

I wanted to cut off contact with Sid; I knew that if we still talked, I would either fall for him again or he would convince me to get back together with him.

But I couldn't. I was in love with Sid when I was with him, more than I’d been in love with anyone else. And yes he’s an asshole, yes he tried to have sex with me when I didn’t want to or whatever, but I had loved him. It’s hard to just cut him off, regardless of what he did or how I feel. 

Fuck.

So Doug has kind of been passing messages along. He told Sid that I said that I didn’t hate him, but I didn’t want contact anymore. He told me that Sid said that he was sorry, but that was it. I didn’t know if Sid wanted to talk to me or not, and I wish I didn’t care because I didn’t even want to talk to him but I fucking wanted to know if he wanted to talk to me. 

I was so grateful for Doug. He was tolerant, he listened, he comforted me when I cried. When I had a breakdown randomly after tour over Sid, I called him, in hysterics, and he came over immediately. He didn’t say much, or offer that much advice, and he did it because he wanted me to figure things out on my own. Which I understood. But he was a shoulder to lean on, an ear to vent to, and my best fucking friend. 

I loved Doug (platonically) more than anyone. 

But when I noticed that we were still sitting there in silence, I was brought back to the present and abruptly asked, “Do you still talk to Emily?”

“No.”

I turned to look at you. You had answered immediately and firmly, in a tone that surprised me. 

You looked back at me. 

“No, I haven’t. We had a pretty nasty fight, and neither of us had any interest of talking to each other.” You sighed. “That’s the thing about commitment. I don’t like it, I don’t do it, so neither of us are torn or missing each other or whatever. I’m good.”

“Good,” I said softly. I then rested my head against you, and we finished the bottle of wine as we watched the sun set below the coast.

And that was our last day. I had to leave that morning, and you insisted that I wake you up, even though I had to be up at 5.

But I did, and though you were groggy, you didn’t seem grumpy. You pulled me back into bed, and grumbled into my back, “Don’t leave.”

The willpower I had to use then was unreal. I wanted nothing more than to crawl back in bed with you with your arms around me for the rest of forever. But I had to go.

We kissed a lot as I got ready to go, and you made me promise to call you once I got back. I promised, but I was expecting to forget when I got home because I’d be too tired.

But I wasn’t tired on the plane at all. Because you, fucking you, were racing through my mind. 

Fuck. I liked you, a lot. And you clearly liked me. Those few days in San Francisco were some of my happiest, and I missed you so bad, I missed your touch and your voice and your familiar soap and cinnamon smell. I missed being in your arms, and kissing your neck. God, Kirk, I missed you so bad.

When I landed in New York and finally got to my apartment, I was so dredged that I couldn’t think. I felt so empty, and I hated that I needed you this bad. I wasn’t used to coming home to an empty house and an empty bed. I wasn’t used to being alone anymore.

It was early in the afternoon, but I was fucking tired and I had no plans until tomorrow so I decided to take advantage of that time and sleep. As I slowly started to get ready for bed, I felt myself feel even more empty. I fucking hated this, I hated that I was feeling like this. You were literally a drug, a fucking drug that made me feel high and happy and on top of the world. And when I wasn’t with you, when I couldn’t get that drug, It was the worst fucking comedown. 

And this is coming from someone who’s had eternal on-off battles with cocaine addiction. 

Fuck.

I missed you. I needed to be with you again. I decided to call you - you said you wanted me to when I landed anyway, and it wasn’t too early in San Francisco. 

As the phone rang, I paced tentatively. I needed to hear you again or I feared that I would be in this come down state until I saw you again. 

The phone rang and rang, and with each ring with no answer, I felt my heart drop. I was fucking out of it at this point, and I felt devastated. I hated that you had this much control over the emotions. I sighed, about to hang up, when I suddenly heard a click.

My heart raced, and I tentatively said, “Hello?”

“Taylor,” I heard a familiar voice say. 

“Kirk,” I smiled, relieved. Thank God.

“I’m home,” I said softly. “I just wanted to let you know.”

“Thank you,” you breathed. We were both being gentle and soft and quiet, and I don’t know your reasoning behind it, but I know why I was acting that way.

I missed you. And I wanted you.

“No, thank you for having me. I...thank you.” I wanted to say more, but I felt tears brimming in my eyes and the most I could say was, “I miss you.”

“I miss you too, Taylor.”

Neither of us wanted to get off of the phone, but you had a meeting to go to and we said our goodbyes. 

I was tired, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep. So I grabbed a box of cigarettes and went up the elevator to sit on my rooftop.

There were about two weeks until we had to fly out to Illinois for tour and yes I was excited to sleep, but I felt like I needed to do something. I went back inside and flicked on a horror movie, but watching it only made me miss you more, as we would often watch horror movies - or, half of a movie, when I was there.

I felt dead the next few days. But I had interviews, so I needed to get up and out. 

I somehow managed to get through the next few days, and I was better once we got to tour week, our version of O-week, kind of. Though I loved my band mates very much, we rarely saw each other on break unless we had to, though we would occasionally hang out one on one. As much time as I’ve spent with them, it was hard to go from not seeing them at all to living with them, for the next nine months. 

That’s why we had tour week - the week before tour, we start to get together more to get used to each other again. We spent the whole week doing everything to prep for tour - making a setlist, practicing it, practicing our stage presence and position, doing post tour interviews, and even briefly talking about ideas for our new album, though I abruptly put an end to that conversation. We didn’t need even more stress now. 

This tour was literally nine months, our longest so far. It was North American, which was more comfortable, but it was nine fucking months. But it was with fucking Metallica. We were so pumped. And I was so, so excited to see you.

On our last day before leaving for tour - all packed up and ready to leave for Illinois early the next morning - all of us - me, my bandmates, Jordan, and our whole crew - decided to go to the bar to kick off tour. 

Being the lead singer and one of the only girls in a tour group was definitely a weird experience. Band members are already prioritized and treated above everyone else, but when you have something that makes you different, like being a girl or being the lead singer, you’re always put even above your band mates. Don’t get me wrong - I loved the attention, I thrived off of it. But I didn’t need all the attention on me, always.

I felt buzzed once I left the bar. Not from alcohol, but from that fucking attention. I couldn’t fucking wait for tour.

I couldn’t wait to see you.

As I walked back to my house (I could’ve been driven, but I wanted to enjoy New York one more time before I left) I finally let myself think about you. I had been so busy over tour week that I honestly didn’t have time to miss you. But now that I could think of you, fully think of you for the first time in a few days, I was unable to continue my excited streak because of course I wasn’t.  
I could feel myself getting more and more anxious, and when anxiety was able to fully cloud my brain, I felt a feeling of dread inside of me.

Why the fuck would you miss me?

We hung out for a few days, big deal. We had sex, yeah, how many girls have you had sex with? You bought me stuff and let me spend time at your house, but how many fucking girls have done that?

You were just being nice to me because we were touring together. Who cares that you were heartfelt, or seemingly. This was just sex. And maybe being friendly. Once I left, you probably just went onto the next girl - took her out for dinner, fucked her, talked a little, and moved on. I didn’t mean shit to you.  
Fuck. 

I flopped into bed once I got home and just laid there, my tight dress, heels, and makeup still on. I put my hands over my eyes and just groaned. 

Fuck.

I hated that I missed you so much. I was so into you, so into spending time with you and you probably didn’t give me a second thought. 

Maybe you were thinking about other girls, or even fucking Emily.

But not me.

Fuck.

How the fuck was I going to face you tomorrow, with all of my anxieties and shit. Because maybe you did like me, maybe you did give me a second thought. But did you…

I guess I wouldn't know until I saw you tomorrow.

I didn’t want to keep stressing over it. I really didn’t want to. 

I started to wash off my face and crawl into bed. I lay there, emotionless, just thinking about how it would be tomorrow. Would you be happy to see me? Did I mean anything to you? Am I overreacting?

Fuck anxiety. I was performing with METALLICA. I should be excited. 

And I was excited. Rebel Heart was my whole life, my everything. You were mentally impacting me a lot, for sure, but not enough to deter me from Rebel Heart. I was so excited for this tour, to go to new places, to meet new people.

I would see you tomorrow.

Maybe it was anxiety, or maybe it was reality.

I guess we’ll see how you act towards me tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the delay! next chapter coming soon! enjoy!


	18. fire

When we touched down in Illinois, loaded all of our bags into our bus (which was newer and bigger than the one we used in Europe), and finally started making our way to the venue, I was surprisingly calm. 

Last night, I was freaking out over seeing you - literally. I was shaking and pacing and couldn’t even sleep. But when I woke up early this morning, I felt a weird feeling. It was a weird urge of sorts, like a draw. But something was prompting me to check the mail, though I just did like two days ago. 

Good thing I checked it. It was fucking early, so I was alone in the mail room in my pajamas. I unlocked my mailbox (which was big - even bigger than an actual mailbox due to the amount of packages I get) and was greeted with, to my surprise, a fucking gift basket. 

I peered at it as I slowly took it out of the mailbox. It couldn’t be fanmail - I had only recently moved out of my teeny apartment on the Upper East Side to my roomy one in Tribeca, so no fans would’ve been able to track where I lived, and the Rebel Heart fan mail address was a separate PO box either way. 

I untied the bow, and lightly gasped when I looked inside the basket. It was filled, filled with things that I liked that only few people would know. There were guitar picks scattered on the bottom, with candy, a stuffed bear wearing an Iron Maiden shirt, a Judas Priest vinyl, and a bottle of wine that looked very familiar….

I pulled it out, examining the label. But once I saw that it was made in Napa Valley, something clicked and I let out a relieved sigh. 

You sent the basket. You must’ve. This was the wine that we drank together on the beach and on the cliff, the wine that you sweared was worth the price (it was). 

You had sent me this basket. God damn it.

I couldn’t stop smiling when I brought it back upstairs. My anxieties about seeing you were gone - of course you still cared about me. Of course you wanted to see me. Why else would you send me this basket?

There was a note on the basket as well, that I didn’t see. I pulled it out, and smiled when I recognized your sloppy scrawl saying that you hope I enjoy. How could I not recognize your handwriting when I watched you sign 250 Black Album vinyls?

We had to leave for the airport now, and I practically skipped out the door, into the black car that Doug, Michael, Andy, and Jordan were in. 

“How are you so energetic?” Andy asked, his voice still raspy. I was always the hardest to wake up, and here I was, at 8 fucking am with more energy than the rest of the band combined. 

But I just smiled and hugged my carry on. I was elated. I wanted to keep up this energy for as long as I could.

It was weird, how a simple gift basket from you made me so happy. But I really, really liked you and even something as minimal as that meant a lot to me. 

By the time we got into the venue in Illinois, we were immediately moved to a room across the venue. 

I didn’t even know if you were here yet until I heard Seek & Destroy being soundchecked. I headed over to the stage with an anxious feeling in my stomach. 

I was excited to see you. 

But when I walked out onto the stadium floor and didn’t immediately see you, my heart sunk. 

You guys weren’t soundchecking. It was your music soundchecking, yeah, and your guitars. But it was the crew who was playing.

Listen. I know that now, your crew soundchecks for you. But you guys were starting to get huge in the early 90s. Before that, you still sound checked your own stuff. 

But maybe now that you’re on a sold out stadium tour, you focus more on yourself.

It was strange. However, we still wanted to and were supposed to do our own soundcheck, so when we did, I tried to shut you out momentarily, as I still hadn’t seen you and was getting anxious. 

I wandered backstage after our soundcheck, expecting to sleep, but surprisingly ran into Jason. 

“Hey!” we exclaimed simultaneously, while going in for a hug. 

“How are you?” I asked. I hadn’t even seen Jason since tour, and wasn’t even able to talk to him a ton at the end of tour. 

“I’m good, excited to tour again though,” Jason said, nodding while slightly jumping up and down. I could tell Jason really loved being in Metallica - he was still relatively new to the band, and I could just imagine him not being able to sit still while on break, antsy to come back. 

Aw Jason. 

“We’re all still coming in,” Jason said before I could even ask, gesturing to the entrance. “We had an interview on our bus.”

I nodded. 

“That’s so cool that you have people soundchecking for you.” I couldn’t even hide my starstruckness. 

Jason blushed a little bit, but then said, “I don’t like it. I know they’re used to being big,” he once again gestured towards the front of the venue, referring to the rest of Metallica. “But I’m still getting used to it. We still sound checked our own stuff up until this tour, because our manager told us we wouldn’t have enough time. I don’t think they care, but I miss it. I love soundcheck.”

“Same!” I exclaimed. “I think it’s the best part of pre show. I’d be so mad if we couldn’t soundcheck. But I guess that’s what happens when you get to the level that you’re at.”

”I guess,” Jason shrugged. Jason was like a monster onstage, but it was cute how shy he was offstage. 

I placed a hand on his arm and made direct eye contact with him. “No, seriously. Everywhere I go, people are talking about your album. It’s fucking incredible.”

We talked a bit more, about your album and tour. Of course, the moment we started walking opposite ways is when you and Lars came trudging in. I could feel my heart drop. This was the moment I’d been waiting for. To finally see you. To see what your reaction was to me. I swear I was calm up until this moment. Now, it felt like my heart was going to beat out of my chest. 

Lars was talking to someone holding a suitcase, elaborately gesturing with his hands. You were talking to someone as well, and I lightly continued talking to Jason until I suddenly felt someone jump up on my back.

I turned and was immediately engulfed by you. 

“Hi Taylor,” you purred as I leaned into you, floored by my favorite soap and cinnamon smell. 

“Kirk,” I squeaked, hugging you even tighter. 

We broke apart, and spent a few seconds grinning at each other, I think just honestly being grateful that we were seeing each other again, until you looked over at Jason, who was now talking to Lars. You walked over and put a hand out. 

“Jason,” you said, as Jason did one of those guy high-five things and went in for a quick hug. “How are you?”

You and Jason went into conversation as I stood there, still feeling a buzz from seeing you.

I had missed you so much. 

But I didn’t like just standing there feeling awkward, and I wasn’t going to interrupt you, Jason and Lars. I walked over to you and lightly put a hand on your back. 

“I’m gonna go to my dressing room,” I said lightly into your ear.

“Okay,” you said softly back, slightly turning to face me as Lars and Jason continued talking. “Can I meet you there in a few?”

I nodded, unsuccessfully trying to masquerade the smile on my face.

Of fucking course Kirk Hammett could meet me in my dressing room.

I fortunately did not have to wait long, as I had to talk to Jordan before going into my dressing room either way. I heard music and the crowd coming from the stage, but it was probably just more soundcheck or something.

I was touching up my makeup when you walked into my dressing room. 

“Taylor,” you said softly, as you walked over to me. I put my makeup brush down and walked towards you. 

You wrapped your arms around me again, lightly kissing my neck as my hands trailed in your hair. I had a little more confidence now, as we were alone and I knew what your feelings were. When we broke apart, you walked back over to the door and placed your hand on it, raising your eyebrow. 

I just scoffed. 

“Go ahead.” I waved my hand towards the door, and you gleefully closed it. You walked back over to me again, cupped my face, and kissed me. 

“I’ve…missed….you,” you whispered, in between kissing my neck. 

“Kirk,” I moaned softly, as you backed me up so that my legs were touching the couch, still kissing me. You switched places so that your back was to the couch, and pulled me on top of you when you sat back, pushing my shirt down my shoulders. I reached for your belt, and started to unbuckle it, until I suddenly had a fleeting thought and shot up. 

“Kirk,” I said suddenly, lightly and unfortunately pulling away from your kiss. You just went to kiss my collarbones instead, and murmured a response.

“Kirk,” I said again, touching the back of your head. “What time is it?”

You finally sat up and looked at your watch. 

“6:15,” you said, and then dove back down to kiss me. 

“Shit,” I lightly pushed your shoulders and stood up. “I have to go onstage in 15.” 

You sighed and leaned back on the couch.

“Taylorrrrr,” you teased. “Come on. You have time.”

Fuck.

I missed you so much, and there was nothing more that I wanted than to stay here and have sex with you. 

But I needed to go. 

“I need to go,” I said softly, and you must’ve sensed my divisiveness, because you nodded, stood up, came from behind and wrapped your arms around me. 

“I understand,” you whispered into my ear, softly kissing my neck again. “One more kiss for good luck?”

I felt a warm feeling go over me. This was more than just someone I fucked. This was cute. I could tell that you thought of me as more of a quick fuck as well.

“Of course.” I turned around, cupped your face, and kissed you, and I could tell that neither of us wanted to stop. But we had to, and I broke away as you sat back down on the couch, and opened the bottle of vodka that I unfortunately didn’t realize was there.

“Babe?” You called out as I hovered in the doorway. 

I turned around. “Yes?” 

A smirk crawled on your face as you pointed to me, and said, “You might want to fix that.”

I staggered back over to the mirror, and gasped at my appearance. My hair was a mess, my lipstick was all around my face and my shirt was halfway down, revealing my bra. It was obvious that I had just been kissing someone. I just glared at you in the mirror when I fixed my shirt. It was too late to fix my hair and makeup now. Oh well. 

I stumbled out of the room in my too-high heels, and ran over to Jordan, who looked relieved when he saw me. He grabbed a crew member, who had my guitar and strapped it on to me. I was pumped. I was ready. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that you had left my dressing room and was talking to a crew member near the stage. You caught my eye, smiled and nodded, and I swear my fucking heart melted. 

Over a SMILE. Fuck my life. 

I bet you were going to be watching my set now. Fuck. Another thing to add my nerves. 

But I was also pumped, and I couldn’t wait to go on stage. I didn’t realize how much I missed it. 

I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror right before I was about to go on, and paused. 

I looked fucking good. Even my messy hair added to the look. 

I looked hot.

I smiled at myself and felt better. I couldn’t wait to get onstage.

I held my arms out as Doug, Andy, and Michael bounded towards me. We engaged in our traditional huddle, while Andy, Michael and I did final warmups when Doug went onstage. We all have each other a final reassuring look, and I followed Michael and Andy onstage to one of the loudest crowds I’ve heard.

Fucking Peoria, Illinois.

We were greeted by the screams of the crowd, and launched into our new set list, which opened with one of our biggest songs, Tell Me. 

We were fucking on FIRE. I felt it, we all felt it, and when I quickly looked backstage, I could see that the crew knew it too, as they were all watching us. 

And you. You were watching as well, and I swear that fueled my fire. 

When we finished, we jogged off the stage, sweaty and adrenalized. 

“Play every show like that, and you’ll be headlining your own sold out stadiums,” Jordan exclaimed as he went in for a hug, looking ecstatic. “Great fucking start guys.”

“Thank you,” I beamed to him, and all the other crew members who gave us well wishes. God. I missed this. I missed being on stage, I missed being treated like this. 

I went to go to my dressing room, to change into something more comfortable before Metallica went on, but I was rushing and looking down and inevitably ran right into you, also rushing and looking down. 

We both looked up, and gave a knowing smile. 

Your eyes went wide. “Great fucking show, Taylor!” you exclaimed, wrapping your arms around me. “I wanna celebrate,” you said softly into my ear. That familiar buzzed feeling quickly burst in my body, as I said, “Meet in my dressing room later?”

“Of course,” you let out, as your hands lightly traveled down my backside. I pulled away before you could do anything, and murmured, “I’ll see you later. Good luck.”

You gave me a quick peck on the cheek and whispered, “Looking forward to it.” You walked down the hall as multiple crew members jogged up to you, wiring you up and strapping your guitar on you. 

I couldn’t help but stare at you as you jogged down the hall. 

Fuck. 

I was starting to get whipped. I know I was. 

I mindlessly walked down that same hallway to watch you guys onstage. I felt a sudden longing for company, I just needed Doug or Andy or Michael or anyone.

Being a hot rocker girl in the 90s was good in the sense that I was able to talk to anyone and they would actually want to talk to me. I wasn’t brushed aside - I was prioritized.

I unfortunately wasn’t able to find any of my band mates backstage, but I’m sure they all just had shit to do. 

That shit most likely being girls. Andy would always have a different girl on his arm after every show, even when we were playing small New York clubs. He always prioritized the band, so nobody really cared. Doug and Michael did get with girls as well, but much more conservatively. 

Michael actually had a long term girlfriend up until we left for tour with Metallica. 

I didn’t have any fucking groupies to be with, and I never really chose to either way. I had hooked up with fans in the beginning of our career, but not so much after that, especially because I didn’t like hooking up with people when I was with Sid, even before we were dating. I did, of course, but not often.

Not as often as Sid, of course. And the people I did hook up with were usually people in other bands or someone in the music industry. 

And now, you. We had only properly hooked up in San Francisco. But we definitely had our moments. The club in London. The tour bus in Paris. The restaurant in Moscow. And today, in my dressing room in Illinois. 

We would’ve fucked if we could. And I’m sure we will later.

Are you my fuckbuddy? Or something more?

I was thinking about us so much that I completely missed your first two songs. I snapped back to reality and walked over to someone standing near one of the backstage sound boards. I usually wouldn’t have bothered someone who was working, but I knew that the main sound board was on the concert floor, so they were just doing brush ups. 

I walked over to the person and muttered a soft “hey,” as I leaned back and continued to watch Metallica on the screens backstage. They didn’t respond, as they continued to focus on what they were doing, so I just continued to watch you. I was once again in a daze, entranced by you, until I felt a hand on my shoulder and heard a familiar mutter.

No. It couldn’t be. 

I slowly turned around, and felt my heart plummet.

“Hi, Taylor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the late update! next chapter coming soon, enjoy!


	19. discomfort

I couldn’t believe it. It was fucking Sid.

At this point, I was sure my life was a movie. There’s no fucking way that my ex would “coincidentally” come back into my life right as I was potentially starting to be involved with someone else.

Why the fuck was he here?

I could act all shrill and freak out. But I didn’t know why he was here, and didn’t want him to think he affected me that much. 

I was shaking so much. But I tried to hide that by just narrowing my eyes and saying, “What are you doing here?” 

He just snickered, and said, “Not everything is about you, Taylor. I’m the head sound engineer for Viceroy.”

“What the fuck is Viceroy?” I snapped. I was getting angry now, and anxious. I didn’t like that Sid was here. It was bringing back bad memories and dark mentalities. 

He gestured towards a group of 4 guys awkwardly standing in the corner. They looked like they didn’t know what to do with themselves. 

“Do you even pay attention? They’re playing first until the show in Toronto. They won some contest to open for Metallica.”

The show in Toronto? That was over a fucking month away! I only knew that because Rebel Heart and Metallica were supposed to do some big interview on one of the big Canadian networks. We had been told about this interview since the end of the European leg.

I looked at the band again. They didn’t look like anything special to me. And I didn’t even realize that they had gone onstage, let alone that another band was joining us for a few shows. 

But nevermind them. I couldn’t have Sid here. I was sick of the bickering, of the insults, of seeing him. We had only broken up a little while ago. 

He must’ve seen the look of distraught on my face because he leaned in and lowly said,   
“Listen. I don’t wanna be here either. So let’s just deal with it.”

I guess I looked too distraught to respond, because as he was walking away, he muttered, “I hope you liked your gift.”

Wait….what?

I ran after him - he had jogged away and was across the backstage by now. 

“Sid,” I called after him, placing my hand on his shoulder as I approached him from behind. I walked in front of him. 

“What gift??”

“You didn’t get my gift basket?” 

I paused. I could feel my anger rising to the top, but I had to control it, I had to. 

I took a deep breath. “Your...what?” I asked, clenching my fists. No way he sent me the basket to try to fuck with me. No fucking way. 

“Did you not get it? With the wine?” Sid asked, but there was a gleam in his eye. 

No fucking way. 

I grabbed his arm and dragged him to the side. We were in the middle of the fucking backstage, and I didn’t need everyone hearing this. 

“Sid,” I said slowly, trying to steady my breath. “Why the fuck did you send me that?”

“Oh, so I can’t send you gifts?” He leaned in close so that your breath was hot on my ear. “It’s called trying to make amends, sweetheart.”

He placed his hand on the small of my back, and before I could pull away, he trailed it down my back, reached under my skirt, and squeezed, hard. 

I jumped away, and glared at him. I was panting and red and so incredibly angry. He was trying to fuck with me, trying to fuck with me mentally, I know he was. He did it when we were dating also, and upon reflection, he did it when I was stupid and 18. He had always mentally fucked with me, and I was too infatuated to realize it. 

This day made me realize it. 

Good thing we were backstage, with the abundance of people and eternal bustle. Because I swear, I would’ve done something I regretted otherwise. 

“Enjoy your wine,” he said maliciously as he started to walk the opposite way. I just slowly turned and numbly watched him walk away. 

I saw him embrace someone, but couldn’t see who it was because he was so fucking tall. But when they turned, and when I saw him kissing a shorter girl with pink hair, I fucking lost it.

Why the fuck did she have to keep working on these tours?? She worked for Metallica’s sound and lighting team..was she really that good? 

Sid might’ve been leaving after a month, but I couldn’t fucking see this bitch for nine fucking months. I couldn’t. 

He was trying to fuck with me still. And he had a girlfriend??? And not just any girlfriend - this was the girl who was fucking sucking him off in MY trailer in Paris. 

I marveled at them as I saw him running his hands in her hair and intimately caressing her. Was that all planned? Had he talked to her before they almost fucked in my trailer in Paris? I could only imagine him hitting her up afterwards, saying how crazy I was and how much he wanted her instead.

And now they were dating?? My ex was dating the girl who he cheated on me with.

No, fuck this. I couldn’t keep watching them act like this. Who cares if I was over Sid and into someone else. That still fucking hurt. 

I caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror and immediately felt embarrassed. I looked fucking stupid. My mouth and eyes were still big. I looked ridiculous.

As I continued to watch them, I suddenly felt a very … weird feeling. I couldn’t describe it. But my skin felt prickly and I suddenly felt very, very exposed as if I was naked. I looked back in the mirror, and caught the eye of a crew member behind me in the reflection. He was giving me quick glances and then going back to his work, as he clearly was trying to see what was going on without being too obvious. I slightly looked over my shoulder, and realized most of the fucking crew was doing the same thing. They were giving me quick glances before going back to their work, and they were clearly eavesdropping on my conversation with Sid before. 

I felt too exposed. This was supposed to private. Everyone fucking heard me. But I guess it was my fault for confronting Sid in such a public place.

I could feel some sort of mental break coming on and I had to leave, I couldn’t be in public with all these people. I had no idea where Jordan or Doug or Michael or Andy were, and you were still onstage. I needed to go back to my dressing room, I needed to be alone.

Unfortunately, Sid and his girlfriend were still loitering, and I needed to walk past them to get to my dressing room. 

I tried to rush past them, I didn’t even wanna see them and I didn’t want them to realize I was there. But of course, Sid saw me hurrying down the hall and grabbed my elbow. 

“Taylor, meet Kelsey.”

I took one glimpse at her face, (I realized that I had never actually properly looked at her, though I had seen her numerous times), ripped my elbow out of Sid’s grasp, and ran off. 

So Kelsey was that pink haired bitch. She probably thought I was a cunt. But honestly, after all the shit that Sid has done, can you blame me? He was trying to mentally ruin me… who the fuck would gleefully introduce their current girlfriend to their ex girlfriend?? 

He wanted to see me suffer.

I unfortunately did not see you that night after your set - I actually ended up going to the tour bus instead of my dressing room - I couldn’t deal with Sid and Kelsey and people. I hated being this mentally unstable, I fucking hated it. Sid knew about my mental issues and he was fucking using it to his advantage.

By the time I got on the bus, I fell asleep immediately. I felt like a zombie during the next few tour dates - we had one show in Wisconsin, and two in Michigan, and I really was not feeling it. I was so drained from Sid, I felt so hurt and so anxious and knowing that I could see Sid and Kelsey, and even worse, them together, was fucking me up. And worst of all, you and I were both fucking BUSY. So I couldn’t even talk to you. Our schedules didn’t match up, and the most I was able to see of you was rushing by each other backstage. We couldn’t even talk, even though we both wanted to. You were even more busy because the Black Album was selling really really well and had press and publicity and so much shit to do. 

I was happy for you, of course. But I also missed you. 

By the time our second show in Auburn Hills, Michigan, approached, I felt better… a little. I hadn’t seen Sid or Kelsey at all. I had isolated myself so much that I didn’t really have any human interaction, other than right before showtime and of course onstage, so now I was missing human interaction a little. I would do the bare minimum for preparation for each show - come backstage only right when I needed to, dress plainly with little makeup, play the show, then go back to my bus. Doug did ask me if I was okay when we had a minute, but I just brushed him off. But now, I missed it. I think I was gonna socialize a bit before this show…

I still couldn’t muster up the motivation to look presentable. My mindset was so fucked - angry over having to see my ex and his current girlfriend (who he cheated on me with), cut off from everyone else. It was really his cheating that fucked me up, and I don’t think I ever really addressed how that mentally fucked me up. I was wearing sweatpants and a sweatshirt, with my hair up and no makeup. But I tentatively made my way to the venue much earlier than usual. I think my band was used to me being reclusive at this point (only coming out for the show - I didn’t even soundcheck), so they all looked relatively surprised when they saw me.

Thankfully, they didn’t make a deal out of it. Michael just clapped his hand on my shoulder, and gently said, “It’s nice to see you, Taylor.”

I mustered up a smile, and said, “Did you guys soundcheck yet?”

Andy shook his head. “Not yet. We were hoping you’d come.”

I nodded. “Thanks, guys.” 

My band was always supportive, and I was so, so appreciative. Even when we had gotten bigger, much bigger, as a band, we still remained tight and supportive. We were all understanding and knew that by the time we hit our peak, we were all on varying ranges of mental stability. 

I usually didn’t freak out when I was going through it, unlike Doug and Andy, and though I did turn to substances, it wasn’t as severe as Michael. But I did isolate myself, and become a recluse. 

Honestly? My mental state was much worse, a little bit later, when we… well, I’ll get to that eventually.

But having such a stable support system definitely helped me through it, and I honestly don’t know what would’ve happened, when I was at my lowest, if I didn’t have my bandmates. 

I felt a little better. Fuck Sid. I had the world.

I still didn’t have you though, not yet. I hadn’t seen you at all really, and I fucking hated it. 

I missed you.

I did, however, see Lars, right before I was going to get ready for the show. Lars was able to get me laughing immediately, and after talking for only about 10 minutes, my stomach and cheeks hurt from laughing so much. I hadn’t laughed like that in so long. Lars definitely had his faults, but he could get me to laugh in an instant. 

Okay. I felt better. I talked to Doug for a while after soundcheck as well, and though I didn’t fully tell him what was going on, he was aware of Sid being on tour and recognized my uncomfortability with the whole situation. It wasn’t even that I missed being with him, because I didn’t. He was an asshole. It was just hard to see my ex with someone new, especially because he cheated on me with her. I knew that I would see Sid again - we were a prominent band, and he was a prominent sound engineer. But not like this.

But regardless, I did feel better. I was just so down in the dumps honestly, but my friends definitely made me feel better. And if I was able to continue that streak of not seeing Sid or Kelsey, I’d be fine. 

I took multiple deep breaths as I walked back to the tour bus. We had a few interviews before the show, so I decided to gather my things from the tour bus and get ready in our dressing room. 

This venue was notable for being a fucking maze, and I had to admit I was lost on getting back. But when I finally was back in that hallway of doors, I sighed and pulled one open, anxious to start getting ready.

Unfortunately, what I saw only propelled my anxiety even further. I dropped all my shit, and let out a small gasp.

It was Sid and Kelsey, fucking on MY couch. 

I quickly gathered myself, and let out a “What the fuck are you doing?”

They both looked up - Kelsey with a look a true horror (good… probably embarrassed that I caught her having sex with Sid AGAIN), and Sid with an expression of annoyance.

But neither of them responded, so I purposefully turned away, and said, “This is my room! Get the fuck out!”

I really didn’t want to be shrill, I was trying. I didn’t wanna act bratty and freak out. I knew that in order to be chill and morally superior, I needed to be calm. 

But seeing him fuck her was too much. And the fact that it’s in my dressing room! I swear they did it on purpose, just to fuck with me.

I actually didn’t hate Kelsey; I knew how conniving Sid could be. I just had that typical weird feeling towards her, as the girlfriend of my ex and the girl he cheated on me with. But now, she definitely knew that this was my room and they were both fucking with me. 

So fuck her anyways. 

I made sure to keep my head turned as they quickly pulled on their clothes and bounded out the door. 

Sid placed his hand on my back and he passed me to go to the doorway, and he let it linger. I reached behind me and pulled my hand off of his back as he rounded to face me. He had on a smirk, and I swear I would’ve punched him. Instead, I stared him straight in the face. 

“Don’t,” I hissed, slamming the door. 

I stood there for a second, frozen, and then staggered over to the couch, and sat down. When realizing that Sid and Kelsey literally just fucked there, I quickly shot up and went to sit in a chair instead.

I didn’t even feel like crying. I felt numb.

It was even worse because I didn’t hate Sid. I couldn’t. I had just dated him, and yeah he’s an asshole who I wanted to kill sometimes and would never date again, but I couldn’t hate him. He was fucking toxic and manipulative and a bad person whose true colors were never shown when we were dating. But I didn’t hate him. As much as I wanted to, and I definitely wanted to. 

But I was able to contain myself, regardless of the ever-growing pit I felt in my stomach. I stood up and slowly started to put on makeup and fix my hair. Less than a few minutes later, however, the door opened, and FUCKING SID walked in.

I immediately turned, ready to fucking kill him. Who the fuck does he think is he, barging into my dressing room, going out of his way to terrorize me because he KNOWS I’m not mentally stable enough to handle it. Who the fuck does he think he is?

Yeah, I didn’t hate him. But I wanted to fucking kill him.

He must’ve seen the look on my face because he just held up his hands and said, “Calm down. I just need to tell you something.”

I honestly had so many emotions at this point that all I could do was helplessly turn away from him and continue doing my makeup. I didn’t even want to see his face or I felt like I would fucking throw up.

He walked over to me and placed a hand on my shoulder. I ripped it off, again, and snapped, “Would your girlfriend like that? Stop fucking touching me.”

But he just circled around me to face the other side. 

“Speaking of Kelsey,” he said snidely, “you’ve been making her feel uncomfortable. You don’t need to like her, but quit acting that way around her.”

There it was. It finally broke. Maybe I seemed unstable when I was yelling at Sid before, but that was fucking pale compared to how I felt when fucking Sid accused me of fucking making Kelsey feel FUCKING UNCOMFORTABLE.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I shrieked, pushing Sid’s chest. I pushed him back again, towards the door, slapping against his chest until he was in the doorframe. 

“Don’t you dare fucking talk to me,” I hissed, pushing against him even more, slapping his arms. He stood there, unfazed. He had the build of a football player; my soft slaps weren’t enough to actually hurt him. But he just glowered over me, looking down on me, and I was so fucking pushed to the limit that I continued to curse at him, yell at him to leave me the fuck alone.

“Are you even listening to me?” I growled. At this point, we were in the hallway, but I clearly didn’t fucking notice because the anger was bubbling so much inside of me that when he didn’t respond, I slapped him, hard. 

Immediately, he grabbed my wrists, shoved me back, and pinned me against the doorframe. My heart started beating even faster as I looked up right into his eyes, and his eyes were filled with something I couldn’t quite decipher. Something malicious.

I expected him to do something. But...he was strangely calm. All he ended up doing was pinning my wrists to the wall, leaning down, and whispering, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

He then let go of my wrists and walked away, seemingly unbothered. 

I stood there, fuming but my mouth also agape. But that was until I turned, and saw you at the end of the hall.

Fuck.

“Kirk,” I called out, lunging forward to you. But when you hesitantly turned and walked away, I stayed back.

Fuck.

But then something in me shifted and I sprinted down the hall. I was going to give you space, but I couldn't. I don’t know what your opinion of what just happened was, but I needed to explain myself. 

But when I turned around the corner, among the surprising absence of crew, you weren’t there. I looked down that hall too, but you weren’t there.

You were gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! i'm still writing! this is the longest chapter yet - more time between updates = better chapters. don't give up on me or wwmr!


	20. loud

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> guess who’s back!!!!!!!! a longer note will be at the bottom of this chapter soooo enjoy <3

It was the complete opposite of what I wanted. Since I stayed with you in San Francisco and we got closer, I was waiting to spend a lot of time with you on tour, and I honestly wasn’t even thinking of Sid. 

But now. Sid is on tour with us. His fucking GIRLFRIEND is on tour with us, the one who I walked in on him cheating on me with, might I add. And I honestly haven't fucking seen you for more than a few minutes.

God. I wanted to fucking kill myself.

I needed to explain myself to you. I couldn’t have you thinking that I was insane, that I just lashed out and hit people all the time. If this ruined our relationship, if SID ruined our relationship…

When we got to Minneapolis, I still hadn’t seen you. At all. And trust me, I had been trying. I waited right by side stage during your set, waiting to grab you once you rushed off the stage. But you were whisked away the second you left the stage, and I couldn’t even get a glimpse of you. 

Were you purposefully ignoring me? Were you?

I couldn’t fucking focus on anything else with the thought of you not wanting to see me anymore in the back of our mind. I did okay during our Minneapolis set… not my worst performance. But I was drinking, a lot - I was completely plastered during the Des Moines set. Jordan was making comments, but he wasn’t taking my alcohol like he threatened to.

Let me be real. This was not my downfall. You know this. To any normal person, it seemed like this was my break - using coke, drinking before gigs, spending all my free time alone in bed, isolating myself. But we, us in the industry, know. This is everyday. Depressive tendencies were something shared by everyone in this fucking industry. Were you even famous if you weren’t depressed, an addict, or perpetually on benders? 

However, when we were in Duluth, I was actually so fucking close to breaking because I still hadn’t seen you. The only thing keeping me from snapping was that I hadn’t seen Sid or Kelsey, which gave me some sense of relief. I needed to see you, I fucking needed to. 

So, I asked around. You were a private person, so I assumed that not many people knew how you were truly feeling (I didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing). But I needed to fucking find you.

I hadn’t seen any of your bandmates or crew members yet. But I did see one crew member who I recognized from the European tour. I asked him where you guys were, and he said that you were all still on the bus.

I looked outside, saw your bus, and took a moment to consider. Should I go on your bus? This may be one of my chances to talk to you.

But then I held myself back. I couldn’t interrupt your band time on the bus. Fuck, I couldn’t interrupt fucking Metallica.

Who did I even think I was? Obsessing over the guitarist of the biggest fucking band in the world?

But no. I knew you liked me, at least before all of this. I needed to see you. And I needed to get myself out of this degrading fucking mindset as well.

But when was I going to see you?

Once I went backstage after our soundcheck and saw Jason, I took my chance and lept.

“Jason,” I pleaded, grabbing his arm. “Where’s Kirk?

He didn’t seem to want to answer; he was shifty and avoiding my gaze.

Fuck. Did I really fuck things up that much?

But then Jason just sighed and pointed down the hall. “He’s in the first room on the left, I think. But he’s not in a good mood.”

I was about to walk towards his room, but then I paused. Fuck my curious self.

“Why?” I asked tentatively. But Jason just started to walk down the hall.

“Beats me. But I rarely see him like this.”

Fuck. I didn’t want to bother you. But I’m also annoying and stupid, and I felt like I should at least try to talk to you. Who knew when I would have the chance again. 

When I approached your door, I finally noticed my heart almost fucking pounding out of my chest. 

But I rapped on it anyway. And I rapped on it again. And right as my heart dropped and I accepted that I wouldn’t see you-

The door swung open. And there you were, standing there, engulfing me with the all too familiar smell of soap and cinnamon. 

I stood there, my mouth slightly agape, mostly because I didn’t expect to see you. You looked normal, a little tired as usual. 

I didn’t even know what to say. I mean, was I overreacting? Yeah I acted kind of fucking insane with Sid. But...it was my business. And you know how Sid pushed me to my edge. But I just wasn’t sure how you felt, and your opinion meant the world to me. You either thought I was crazy, or you didn’t care…

And now, I could vocalize it to you.

“Kirk,” your name breathily tumbled out of my mouth. Your eyes slightly widened, and you put your arms around me as we backed into your room. I could feel myself starting to cry, for some stupid ass weak ass fucking reason, and I hiccuped as we leaned back onto your couch. 

But thankfully, I blinked it away, and took a deep breath. I could compose myself. 

God. It was actually comical how emotionally weak I was. 

You turned to look at me, not moving your arms. 

“What’s up, Taylor?” you said lightly.

I sniffed and actually chuckled a little.

“Listen, Kirk.” I was gaining my composure back and lightly placed my hand on your chest. “I don’t know how much you saw of...me and Sid the other day. But please don’t think of me like that. I’m really not that crazy.”

You blinked, and I started to think that I angered you again. But you didn’t say anything, and I was scared and I was about to open my mouth to explain until your face cracked into a smile. 

“Are you kidding? Is that what you were so distraught about?” 

“I-”

“Taylor,” you stood up and walked over towards the mirror. “I know Sid is an ass. He provoked you. I don’t think of you any differently at all.” You ran your hands under the sink and started to comb back your hair. You turned to me. “I had wanted to hit him since I first saw him. So on my behalf, thank you.”

You were laughing, and I started to laugh as well. Fuuuuck. I really fucking stressed myself out for nothing. God. I was really in a depressive state for NO FUCKING REASON.

See, at this point, I should’ve taken a HUGE step back. I stressed myself out for no reason over you, so much that I was in a depressive state. This was a prime example of how much control you had over me and how this was self caused. I should’ve fucking seen how it would be when you actually become toxic, but of course, my dumb ass self was just a fucking fan girl who was so happy that Kirk Hammett was interested in me.

I did think of you as more than that, of course. But it was hard to not idolize you when I was opening for you. And in the midst of the fucking Black Album. 

But at this point, I didn’t fucking care. You weren’t mad. You still liked it. And that satisfied my dependant ass self enough. 

Now that I knew we were good, I felt a lot more comfortable. We talked for probably about an hour, until you put your hand on my thigh and I didn’t even fucking realize that I was practically on your lap. 

See, this is another reason why I was so drawn to you. Because it seemed like you didn’t only want sex. If you did only want sex, yes of course I wouldn't have minded just fucking you, no strings attached. I’d done it before. But it did seem like you genuinely liked me… if not, why not just fuck me right there?

But once we did start touching each other more, I did really want to fuck. But we were moving pretty slowly, sensually though, and before we could do anything more than touch each other, there was a loud knock on your door, but we didn’t even move from each other. 

“Kirk! Radio station 107.9 has an interview with you in 20 minutes. I’ll take you there.”

You leaned back and sighed, placing your hands over your face. 

“Coming,” you groaned, as you stood up and ran your hands through your hair.

You turned to me before approaching the door. 

“Find me backstage during Viceroy’s set. I’ll be there.”

And then, you left. The hour felt fleeting and though I was glad we were on good terms, I still suddenly missed you.

But I was able to keep myself occupied, and by the time Viceroy was about to go on, I was getting anxious. You told me to meet you backstage, but I couldn’t find you. Doug was on the tour bus with a girl, I didn’t know where the fuck Andy was - probably getting high - and Michael was prepping to go onstage with Viceroy because their bass player had gotten the flu or something. I didn’t like being alone in such an open space, especially with the threat of Sid roaming around. 

I was getting really anxious and I could feel myself starting to shake. I felt so naked, so exposed, so-

My thoughts abruptly stopped as I felt a hand on my back.

My mind immediately flashed to Sid, and I felt my stomach drop. But the smell of soap and cinnamon calmed me down, and I leaned back into your arms. 

“Hi,” I smiled, and you responded by placing a kiss on my forehead. I was surprised by the sudden public affection, but I also didn’t care. After days of anxiety and depression, it was nice to have requited happiness. 

I really was in a daze with you, leaning back with your arms wrapped around me, paying no attention to the havoc going on around me. The backstage was pretty packed, but I felt like it was only me and you. This was the first time we were affectionate in public on tour and I didn’t even care. It didn’t mean anything to me (as in, it didn’t feel different or weird) and Sid didn’t even pop into my mind. 

Viceroy started playing and we were both honestly having a great fucking time. Viceroy was great actually, now that I could properly listen to them, and you agreed. Michael was doing awesome too, especially for someone who had just learned their songs. 

When the lead singer of Viceroy, who you told me was named Patrick, introduced their last song, and thanked Michael for helping them this set, we all cheered for him. I was in a daze and so fucking happy and I didn’t even want their set to end - I wanted to stay with you.

But as they started their next song, something was...off.

There was this...sound...underneath the opening chords of the song. It sounded like a low groaning, and when I looked over to you, you didn’t seem fazed so I didn’t think anything of it. But it got louder, and I know that I wasn’t the only one who noticed it. Andy - who had joined you and I in the middle of Viceroy’s set - had a confused look on his face as the groaning was louder and seemed to sound more like a girl moaning. 

This should’ve made more sense to me, as I’ve frequently moaned in between songs and onstage for sexual effect. We’ve even used porn audios as part of our songs, and as stage intros. But this was clearly different. This wasn’t coming from Patrick , as he wasn’t even near the microphone and looked very uncomfortable. So did the other band members, except for Michael, who was used to our disgusting sexual onstage antics and looked unfazed as he kept playing.

But the moaning was loud, loud to the point that when the Patrick started singing, he was barely audible over the moaning. At this point, we had all noticed it, including Michael 

“I don’t think…” you said slowly, as I nodded. 

“Look at him.” I pointed to Patrick. “He doesn’t know what’s going on.”

At this point, the crew members barrelled towards the stage entrance, furiously talking and jabbing their fingers to the stage. No one had any idea what the fuck was this moaning, as it was now so fucking loud and clearly consisted of a female and male moan.

It was so loud that I didn’t even realize that their set was over until Patrick could barely muster a small, “Thanks,” into the microphone, accompanied by a weak wave. 

As the band grudgingly walked down the steps to the backstage, they looked fucking pissed. As they should. The moaning was clearly some sort of sound glitch and not favored by the band. 

I motioned for Patrick to come over as he walked offstage, and he came up to me looking rightfully mad. 

“What happened?” I asked, as you tightened your grip around me. 

Patrick threw up his hands in disgust. “Ask me if I fucking know. I’m trying to start “Green Skull” and suddenly some girl is fucking moaning. I don’t play with that shit, we don’t use audio like that Someone probably fucked up the audio, or was fucking in the sound room, I don’t fucking know.”

We all nodded in agreement, and Patrick’s manager hurriedly called him over before anyone could say anything else. I was mad for him. Technical difficulties sucked. 

I was curious as well as to what happened. Because this was more than just a technical difficulty. Overlapping audio just doesn’t happen, and Rebel Heart or Metallica didn’t use any moaning audios on tour… we were both 100% live, only needing amplification. That meant that this audio was naturally produced…

I was telling all of this to Doug as we prepared to go onstage, and he looked lost. I’m pretty sure he was on the bus when this happened so he didn’t even hear any of it. 

“Naturally produced...meaning… it was a present sound?” Doug asked as he started wrapping up his hands. 

“It must’ve been, I mean, we didn’t use any of our moaning audios this tour. I think-”

Oh my fucking god. 

“I’ll tell you after our set.” I leaned over to Doug as a crew member adjusted my guitar strap and gave us the green light.

This was fucking insane. I knew what had happened, and I knew that the news would break soon. What the fuck.

I was kind of distracted onstage because of this. This was actually crazy. This venue had a sound booth, which was basically a room where the sound boards were. A fucking room…

There was no moaning during our set, thankfully. But that’s because we had our own sound guy. Viceroy, however…

“Thank you, Cedar Rapids!” I bellowed as we finished our set. I was, truly and genuinely, shocked. 

Sid was in charge of the sound. The moaning came under his watch.

Sid was fucking Kelsey in the sound room during Viceroy’s set. He forgot to turn off interior sound.

The moaning of Kelsey and Sid was projected to the whole fucking Cedar Rapids crowd over Viceroy’s set. 

As much as I despised Sid, as much as I thought he was incompetent - he was a good fucking sound engineer. He had been on so many tours before we met, and on tours for big artists too. He had a very good professional reputation, and had for a long time, after he worked for Monsters of Rock. It’s actually comical that a band like Viceroy got Sid...maybe they have a rich dad or something, because Sid is one of the best. So the fact that he made such a stupid mistake of fucking Kelsey not only while the internal sound was on, but during the show, was comical. I never would’ve guessed.

I was looking forward to seeing the reciprocation of this. 

But I also had another thing to look forward to. We had an extra day in Cedar Rapids after our show, mostly to just rest before a stretch of consecutive shows. 

Cedar Rapids was a cool city. We were all stressed and just wanted to get fucked up.

Doug told me that he knew a guy he used to play with who now lived in Cedar Rapids, who owned a club. He said that he’d close off his club to everyone on this tour, for free, in return for publicity.

Rebel Heart and Metallica partying alone in the same building?

This was going to get good. Especially with Sid off my mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok HI. listen i know it’s been so fucking long since i last posted and i really didn’t mean for it to be that long. i’ve been working on the next few chapters a little at a time and i’m annoyed bc i do have more things planned for taylor and kirk, just not a lot of time to write it :/ im going to update more often though i promise, let me know what u think of this chapter :)


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